


The Volunteers Of District 12

by KN03



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies), The Hunger Games (Movies) RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Gen, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KN03/pseuds/KN03
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are counting the days until they can get married, but the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games will change their plans for ever. Now not only they'll have to fight to survive, they'll have to fight to save their relationship. Alternative HG with a different Arena, different rules, and no berries.





	1. Katniss Everdeen

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! So this is my first fanfiction ever. I'm trying to improve my writing, and I thought of no better way than getting characters that I already know and love and putting them dire, life treating situations. Because I'm trying to get better, any notes or suggestions you guys can give me are totally welcome.
> 
> I don't really know how to end this things... so... let's do this?

It's still dark when I reach the town's main square. The cold breeze feels like it is cutting through my bones, my father's jacket is still too big for me so close it the best I can, and walk faster towards Peeta's bakery. At this hour, almost all the stores are still closed, the light from the bakery makes me long for the smell of fresh bread and the warmth of Peeta's arms.

From outside I can see Mrs Mellark cleaning the counter, I'll have to sneak around the shop to avoid her. She despises me for a river of reasons. Mostly because of my relationship with Peeta, but also it's because she needs me. Without the meat I sell her, which is below the market price her family couldn't afford to eat meat more than once a week. I never told her that, but she knows that I know it. And she hates it.

I head straight to the backyard. Only one person is working in the kitchen, Peeta. I gently tap the window, getting his attention. He gives me his brightest smile and gestures me to get inside. The warmth inside the kitchen feels good, but is Peeta's kisses that makes me feel instantly better. "Good morning, Mockingjay," he whispers in my ear. We're both aware that his mother is in the other room, so we keep our voices to the minimal.

"I brought cheese, what do you got for me?" Peeta takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and gives it to me.

"Well, besides a long list of things to get in the woods, can I interest you in some old burnt bread and tea?" He has an embarrassed smile. I told him several times that I didn't care about the bread, but that's the type of person Peeta is, he wants to give me the World because he can't see that he is enough for me.

"I would love it," and I kiss him once more.

We sit down together to have breakfast, the bread is from a burned batch that Peeta's family has to eat for the whole week so it doesn't go to waste. I never complain about it, but after all this years I can tell that he is still embarrassed by giving me his family's leftovers. "How's Prim?" Peeta asks. I sigh, remembering how many times she woke up screaming this week.

"She still having nightmares. Not even the sleep syrup is helping, we barely slept yesterday." Peeta puts his arms around me, holding me tight. His shirt smells like flour, sugar and cinnamon. I let myself to get lost in his embrace, knowing that both of us have the longest day of the year ahead of us.

"Everything will be fine, after the reaping." _Not for two families_ , but I don't say that, I only hug him tighter.

We avoid talking about the reaping for the rest of the meal. Peeta tells me about the new drawing he's working on, I tell him about the new music sheets Madge's father brought from the Capitol. "When we get married, I'll work day and night to buy you a piano," Peeta says. We both know that would be easier to win the Hunger Games, but I like the dream.

"Madge told me that the Capitol is planning to build a dozen houses by the edge of the Seam next fall. Hopely, one of those will be ours."

We already have our names on the waiting list. We can't get married until we are legally adults, that would be the day after our last reaping. But you can enter the list when you turn fifteen, with your parents consent. Both of our families thought we were insane, except Mr Mellark. He smiled and wished us good luck. All the kindness in Peeta definitely came from him.

After breakfast I put the rest of the cheese, and some bread on my game bag. Taking a quick glance at the list I can tell right away that is Mrs Mellark's handwriting, I try to contain the small smile forming on my lips before Peeta sees it. We walk outside with our fingers interlaced. "Will you be here when I come back from the woods?"

He checks the schedule posted on the wall, "I think so, I have a few deliveries, but I should be back before you."

The cold make me shiver, and Peeta hugs me protecting me from it. In his arms, I have the sudden feeling that today I could lose him. The fear makes me hold him tighter, life without him would be the same as falling into a dark precipice. I tell him that I love him, but those words aren't enough to explain how much I need him, how much I care for him, how much I want to be his wife. "Come over with Prim after the reaping, and we'll make a cake. How about that?" he says.

"A cake?" My surprised face makes him laugh.

"Yes, a cake! I have some money saved up to pay for it, and you can get strawberries from the woods. Come on, don't you want to make Prim happy?" I'm tempted to say that is a huge waste of money, but that would make my sister happy, and Peeta loves to spend time with her.

"Alright, but I'm paying for half of it, and we're giving some of it to Gale." Peeta's smile fades away.

"Sure," he says.

The first sunlight makes his blonde hair look like gold, and I realize that I'm late. I don't want to, but we kiss goodbye and I head to the forest.

The Sun is up when I find Gale crunched down setting up a snare. "You're here early, usually I'm the one waiting."

Gale turns with a grin from ear to ear. "You're not going to believe this, saw a deer." My jaw drops. We haven't seen a deer in over a year, the meat alone would give us more money than a month's worth of hunting! "I saw it by the river but it ran away before could hit it. I think it's heading North."

If this morning was like any other we would cut class and spend the day tracking it. But unfortunately, today we can't afford to do that. "We can't Gale, not today. Even if we catch it the town square will be crawling with Peacekeepers."

Gale is moody for the next hour. He knows I'm right, but he's too stubborn to admit it. We catch a couple of rabbits and a few squirrels, plus almost all the nuts and fruits on Peeta's list. Gale helps me, but he can't help it to complain about it. He also was in the receiving end of Mrs Mellark's comments several times.

"That woman got some nerve. She thinks we're an illegal poaching service?"

Technically we are, she's not the only store owner to ask us to get something in particular from the forest. She's just the most demanding one. "She's taking advantage of you. You know that, right?"

I'm getting tired of this conversation, "Yes, I know, but she's Peeta's mother. So what you want me to do?" Gale sighs loudly, he doesn't like to meddle on my relationship with Peeta.

"Let's just get the damn strawberries."

At mid-morning we sit under a tree and split the bread, cheese and a handful of berries between us. "We're baking a cake today, after the reaping." My attempt to calm Gale down falls on deaf ears.

"This whole thing is sick. Standing up in the square, hoping that someone else will be sent to death, and still having to act grateful for it." It is sick, and also out of our control. I know better than tell him that. I let Gale rant for as long as he wants, today is a hard day for him too. Rory, his younger brother turned twelve too months ago and had to take out tesserae when Gale was down with a fever. His name will be added five more times from now on, if he doesn't take out more tesserae.

The games are especially unfair with the children from the Seam. We need tesserae to survive and that increases our chances to be picked for the Hunger Games. Gale is eighteen, his name will be in the reaping balls forty-two times, my will be in twenty times while Peeta's, who never needed to take a tesserae will only be in four times. The odds aren't exactly on our favor.

Back at the town the main square is completely transformed. The front of the Justice Building is now a stage and Effie Trinket, the escort for the tributes from our District is testing the microphone by blaring orders. "She looks like a mutt," Gale says, and is true, her pink wig and puffy dress stands out like a sore thumb against the opaque colors from the square. But if I had to guess, I would say that was her intention.

Madge's house is our first stop. It isn't far from the Justice Building, besides the houses in the Victors' Village, her house is the biggest in town. Madge wasn't born on District 12. Her family moved in from the Capitol when she was ten, after the previous Mayor was executed. She’s the only person in our school that doesn't have to worry about her name being picked for the reaping. Most people hate her for it. I used to hate her too, until we got stuck together in a class project and I realized that she's a genuine good person who also hated the games. We became friends after that. Gale, on the other hand, only seems to tolerate her because she always buys strawberries.

Madge opens the door and I'm stunned by how beautiful she looks. Her hair tied with a pink ribbon falls like a cascade of blonde curls over her white dress. "Katniss, hi!" I about to say it back when Gale cuts me.

"We brought your strawberries." He's blushing, I don't think I ever saw he do that. If Madge notices, she chooses to ignore it.

"Come in, I found something I want to show you."

We enter the hall and Madge takes a small black box from a table. "Open it!" I do as she says and inside is a golden pin of a mockingjay connect to a ring by the tip of his wings, holding an arrow on his beak. "I want to trade it, for the strawberries," Madge says.

I look at Gale and he is just as dumbfounded as I am. "It's beautiful Madge, but I can't accept it. I too valuable." I consider Madge my friend, and the last thing I want is to feel like I owe her something.

"Katniss, I found it in the attic with the things from the old Mayor. I don't think anyone is going to miss it." Gale takes the pin from my hand and analyzes it.

"You can get a good price for it, at the Hob." Madge takes the pin back. "Not everything's meant for sale Gale," her tone is cold.

"It is if you have a family to feed." Gale says grinding his teeth. They stare at each other in silence, if I don't do something they'll start a fight. So I accept the pin, promising Madge that I wouldn't never sell it. Although, the thing feels like it is burning a hole though my pocket all the way through my trading route. It’s impossible not to think how much it worths.

Our last stop is the bakery. Mrs Mellark is nowhere to be seen, but we still chose to use the door on the backyard. Mr Mellark greeds us hugging me and shaking Gale's hand. "How are you doing Mr Mellark?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"As fine as anyone can be in a day like this," he says, with a sad smile.

"This is Prim's first year, and Gale's brother too," I say.

Mr Mellark puts his hand on Gale's shoulder and looks at us, "Both of you are the strongest kids I know, you'll get through this." His voice is full of warmth and compassion. Gale doesn't say anything, he looks down and nods, his eyes are red but he doesn't cry.

We start to trade the rest of the game Gale and I caught when Peeta walks through the door. I walk to greed him but I stop when I realize that he's drenched in sweat. "What? You're not going to hug me?"

Peeta's arms are wide open and he has an evil smile on his face. I take a step back, then I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders. I look up and it is Gale. He also has a creepy smile, I'm about to tell him no, when he pushes me straight to Peeta's sweaty arms. I try to wiggle my way out but I'm laughing too hard.

"Okay, okay, you won!" He lets me go and high-fives Gale, both looking incredibly proud with themselves. I'm surrounded by traitors.

Peeta and Gale didn't get along at all when they first meet. Gale thought that Peeta was a sheltered townie and Peeta thought Gale was a hot head. Both weren't exactly wrong. They only started to warm up to each other when they found a common hobby, picking up on me.

"Great, now I going to smell like sweat and bread until I get home."

Gale laughs out loud for the first time all day, "That'll be an improvement." I give him an angry look, but it makes him laugh harder.

"Well, I always love the way you smell," Peeta gives me a quick kiss, and I put my arms around him. We both need a shower anyway.

Gale lives in a different part of the Seam so I walk alone most of the way. I stop at the edge between the Seam and the town to look at the vast empty space were Madge said the new houses will be built. Looking at it makes my heart ache. We have three more reapings to get through, then Peeta and I will live here. We won't have any kids, but we will have each other.

Is not that I don't want children. I thought about having children with Peeta until Jasmine Thorneleaf was reaped last year. She was a girl from a merchant family. She was twelve and she wore her blonde hair in two braids, the same way I braided Prim's hair that morning. In that moment decided I wasn't going to have children. Some pains just are too much to bear.

"You're late!" Prim is already dressed and pacing the living room holding that demon she insists is a cat.

"Well hello to you too, little duck." I worry she'll have a panic attack so I hold her. "Prim, your name is only going to be there once, the chance they'll pick you is one in hundreds."

Her beautiful blue eyes are full with tears, "You promise?"

I can't promise she wouldn't be picked, so I make a promise I know I can keep, "I will never let anything bad happen to you."

We're running late so there's no time to heat more water, and the water left is freezing, my nails are blue when I finish showering. "I'm sorry Katniss, it was either heating up the water or making lunch."

My mother and I came a long way since her mental breakdown after my father's death, but things like this make me so angry. I spent the entire morning hunting and trading to provide for our family and she can't make the time to heat up some water. I want to complain but Prim is already on the edge, and we need to be on time, so I let it go. For now.

We walk fast to reach the square on time. Prim wears some of my old clothes, and I wear one of my mom's blue dresses, with the mockingjay pin on the lapel. We are some of the last people to reach the square. Most kids are already in place. The Capitol workers rush to get us sign in and place us with our age groups. Prim stays in the back with the other twelve year old girls, I stay in the middle section. From my place I can easily spot Madge and her family on the stage, Gale in the front row, and Peeta on the same row as me, but on the boys side. We exchange a nervous smile.

Effie Trinket starts the ceremony with an overly happy tone, she tries some half-baked jokes that are met with absolute silence. Mayor Undersee reads a standard speech from the Capitol, making sure to mention Haymitch Abernathy, our only victor alive, or half alive. He barely looks conscious sitting down on his chair. They play a boring short film about the Dark Days, the destruction of District 13 and the beginning of the Hunger Games and it ends with a pre-recorded speech from President Snow. The only stir the ceremony gets is when the reaping balls are placed on the stage. Two huge glass vases with the names of the boy and girl that will be chosen to fight in an arena to the death a week from today.

"As always ladies first." Effie takes out a single paper from the hundreds inside, and my heart stops on my chest when she reads it. "Primrose Everdeen." I can't believe. The other girls around me try to hold me so I won't fall, but all I can think of is to push them away. They can't take Prim, I promised that I wouldn't not let anything bad happen to her.

"Prim!" I start to scream pushing the peacekeepers that try to stop me. They can't take her, I won't let them take her, "I volunteer as tribute!" I hear myself saying.

Peacekeepers take me to the stage, while Prim screams for me not to do it. Gale rushes in and takes her to my mom, who is with the other parents. She looks like she's about to pass out. I give her a smile to assure her that it is fine, even though I'm terrified. From the stage I see Madge, whose fair skin is red from crying holding onto her father's arms. Effie holds my arm to keep me still on a marked place on the stage.

"My, my, my, District 12's first volunteer in decades! What's your name?" she asks.

"Katniss Everdeen." She continues to talk but I don't pay attention. My mind still feels out of my body until I notice Peeta staring at me from the audience. I have seen the expression in his eyes before, its the same he has before a wrestling match. There is a goal in his mind and absolutely nothing will stop him until he achieves it. Before I thought that it was arousing, now I know he's about to do something very stupid.

"And now, for the boys." Effie takes another piece of paper, while Peeta and I stare at each other. _Don't do it, you idiot._ Effie opens the paper. _Please Peeta, please don't do this!_

Effie barely gets to say some boy's first name when Peeta shouts "I volunteer as tribute!"


	2. Peeta Mellark

I know I just signed my own death sentence, but I’ll be damned if I let Katniss die in the arena. The peacekeepers scort me to the stage, but a hand stops me halfway, it’s my older brother Rye, “What the hell did you just do Peeta?!” The other boys hold him down before the peacekeepers have any chance to beat him. He only stops yelling when I reach the stage. 

Effie Trinket asks my name but I ignore her. I push her aside, maybe with a little more strength than I should, to hug Katniss. “You can yell at me later,” I whisper in her ear. 

“What a turn of events!” gushes Effie, she pulls me away from Katniss to a mark on the floor at her right side. “Two volunteers from District 12! That has to be a first in Panem’s history!” Her overly excited tone disgusts me. “Now, what’s your name?” I swallow hard.

“Peeta Mellark,” I say. 

“Wonderful! I bet the entire country is going to pay attention to you two. Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to the volunteers from District 12!”

You could hear a pin drop in the square. Even the people that uses the reaping to place bets on the lives of the children doesn’t make a sound. Gale is the first to do it, he stands on the front row and places three fingers on his lips and holds them up for us. Then my friend Delly Cartwright, my older brother Gram and his wife, then another person, and another, until every single man, woman and child in the square does the gesture. It’s something we do in funerals, it’s a way to show love, to say thank you, to say goodbye.

After the anthem ends, Katniss and I enter the Justice Building holding hands. The peacekeepers try to put us in seperate rooms. There is a scuffle about to turn into a real fight when Effie shows up. “No, that’s okay. It’s just standard procedure. You won’t be separated anymore, I promise.” Her voice is surprisingly calm, so we do as she says. Before entering the rooms we’re inform that we have an hour to be with our friends and family. 

I’m surprised to see that the first people that enter the room are either. Eight boys stand in front of me, two of them seem to be from merchant families, the other six could pass for Katniss and Gale’s cousins, clearly from the Seam. “We won’t take too much of your time,” the one that looks like he is the oldest says, “It’s that we’re all name Clover.” I get it after a second. Clover was the name that Effie took from the reaping ball. By volunteering to be with Katniss, I unintentionally saved the life on one of this boys. “They didn’t say the last name, so we all came here to say thank you.”  

I have to drink water to shallow back the tears after they leave. Now truly no one can convince me that what I did was a mistake. Another knock at the door. A hand slaps me on the face as soon as I open it. 

“How could you be so stupid?!” My mother’s voice is so loud I’m sure they can hear it from the main square. “You’re going to kill yourself because of that trash from the Seam?!” My brothers hold her down on the couch while she starts to sob. 

After some time my mom manages to control her tears. No one says a word. My father’s tears forms a wet spot on his shirt. I feel terrible, but the image of those eight boys still lingers on my mind. “You have to eat as much as you can before you enter the arena,” Rye is the first to break the silence, “There is no guarantee you’ll find food easily, so you and Katniss need to gain as much weight as you can.” 

Both our parents look at him like he’s crazy, but Gram and his wife jump in, “He’s right, with the extra weight you’ll have more energy until you find a food source.” 

The air in the room seem to lighten up a little, but my mother is a professional pessimist. “Don’t be silly, they’ll both be dead on the first day!” she says, starting to cry again. Our time is nearly up, so I hug my family as they leave the room. My dad is the last one.

“Don’t you listen to your mother, do you hear me? You fight to the end. As long as you’re alive there is hope.” I take his words to my heart. I hug my dad once more, before he leaves the room he says one last thing, “I’ll make sure Prim has food.” That lifts some of the weight on my shoulders. There is hope, there is always hope.    

The hour is almost up, someone knocks on the door and I have a feeling that those are the last people from the District that I’ll see. The door opens and it’s Delly, followed by Madge and Gale. Delly usually has an uplifted attitude even on the direst situations. Today she’s no different. “You’re so brave!” she says with a half smile. 

“You really are Peeta, and we’ll help out in any way we can,” Gale says, he and I were never really close. I always felt jealous of all the time he spends with Katniss in the woods, but at this moment, I realize that Gale is my friend.   

“Listen, the people from the Capitol are naive and giddy,” Madge starts, “You can easily persuade them to sponsor you with the right words.” Madge’s harsh words about her own people surprise all of us. 

“You do have a way with words Peeta,” Delly says, pondering the idea. I don’t know if I have that kind of power of speech, but I guess anything is worth trying to bring Katniss back home. 

“Look I don’t have a lot of time left, but I need to ask you guys something.” All three lean in, paying close attention. “I know that if we manage to bring Katniss home you’ll look after her. But if we can’t, if we die,” Madge lets out a  soft choked sob and Gale holds her hand consoling her. “There’s a small lake, deep down in the woods, it’s one with a house made of concrete. Please make sure they bury us there, under the large oak tree.” I hope Katniss doesn’t mind that I’m telling them about the lake. 

“We’ll do it Peeta, whatever it takes,” Gale says. 

A peacekeeper enters the room telling us that our time is up. They lead me to the hall where Effie and Katniss wait for me. “Are you okay?” she asks, I nod and kiss her gently on the lips. A flash startles us. We look out to see what it was, when we see a man with an insectlike camera being tackle by the peacekeepers. We’re shocked, but Effie laughs it off, 

“You’ll get used to it.” 

When they say we have to take a car to get to the train station, we found it odd. The train station is a few blocks from the Justice Building, it would take only five minutes to get there. But soon we realize why. The streets are crawling with reporters, all with cameras just like the man in the Justice Building. “Peeta look up, in the sky,” Katniss points to dozens of hovercrafts flying over us. All with different logos from tv channels painted on them. 

“I don’t think something like this ever happened here,” I tell Katniss, but is Effie who responds.

“Well, District 12 never had tributes so perfect for tv.” 


	3. Haymitch Abernathy

"Looks like I got myself a pair of idiots this year." The boy and the girl look uncomfortable. Good. "General rule of thumb is if you don't want to die in the Hunger Games, don't be stupid enough to volunteer for it." Effie signs for them to sit on the armchairs but they stand their ground. They're sizing me up. Like that's going to make a difference.

"Aren't you supposed to give us real advice?" Oh, the boy speaks! I got forty-six dead kids under my belt, and the genius wants advice!

"Here's an advice boy, accept the fact that both of you are already dead."

I'm about to take another sip from my gin when the boy lashes out the glass from my hands. He's fast, but not fast enough to block my fist on his jaw. Effie starts to scream and I hear glass breaking. That woman is such a drama queen. The boy is on the floor, it's over. Then I feel something sharp on my neck and I realize why Effie is screaming. That crazy ass girl has a broken bottle on my throat.

I can not recall the last time I felt my heart beating this fast. The girl's hand is bleeding, but she doesn't move a muscle. We stand at a stalemate, and I take a good look at her. She looks like she's from the Seam, most kids from there have this empty hopeless look in their eyes. Not her. "Don't you dare touch him." This girl's eyes are full of fire. She won't go down without pulling one hell of a fight first.

"Okay, okay," I say, taking a step back.

"Look, you don't have to like us, but it's your job to help us," the boy says getting up.

"Are you okay?" the girl asks, but her eyes are still locked on mine.

"Yeah, better than you. Come on, drop the bottle, you're bleeding," he says. So that's why he volunteered. These kids may be idiots, but they are also fighters.

"Effie, calm down and get something to fix the girl's hand," I say, "If you two aren't ready to die yet, I think I can help you."

While Effie brings a first aid kit and patches up the girl's hand I take a good look at the boy. He's not very tall, but he seems strong and he's not bad looking, that's good, only not good enough. "Alright boy, what's your name and what you can do that is useful?" He takes some time to think.

"Peeta Mellark. I can lift heavy weights and I guess I'm okay at wrestling." He wouldn't stand a chance with the careers, they got 100 pounds on him easily, but I can tell he's not here to win.

"What about you, sweetheart?" She hesitates, they exchange suspicious a look.

"I'm Katniss Everdeen, I'm good with a bow." Holy shit. She's the hunter girl from the Hob.

There isn't a lot of people on 12 with enough guts to enter the woods. Just crossing the fence earns you some kind of punishment. So people who hunt gain a reputation quickly. The twelve-year-old girl who lost her father in the mine explosion and starts hunting to provide for her family drew everybody's attention. And she's smart too, probably figured out that the whole train is tapped by the Capitol and doesn't want to incriminate herself. "Good, go see your rooms. Then we'll watch the recap of the reapings and talk strategy over dinner."

Effie takes the kids and I sit down still feeling the spot where Katniss pressed the broken bottle. They're both tough and seemly good kids, but that won't be enough to get sponsors. Nobody cares about any district that isn't overjoyed to send their kids to the games, especially on 12 that always looks bland, boring and uncooperative. As much as I think that was a mistake, volunteering did made them stand out from the other tributes 12 usually offers. We can only hope that the kids live up to the expectations.

"Mr. Abernathy, may I come in?" A young man stands on the door with cleaning supplies.

"You're going to need more than that to take all this glass off the carpet." He seems unsure, so I gesture saying that he can come in.

"Most have been a nasty accident, I hope Katniss is fine." He probably forgot that we're not supposed to talk, Capitol sends all the trainees to 12 before they can move up to better districts. We get lousy service, but great opportunities.

"So you watched the reaping." He's not allowed to do that either.

"I so sorry, the guys in the kitchen were watching and-" he stutters.

"How did they look like?" I give the kid my best smile to make him feel comfortable, he collects his thoughts for a second, and speaks in almost a whisper.

"Well, the careers are always great, but the anger thing gets boring after a while. Besides, they win almost every year. But Katniss and Peeta," the kid smiles, "they're really cool. Caesar Flickerman calls them the 'star-crossed lovers from District 12'."

Those last words kept repeating in my mind until the young man finishes cleaning. "Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Abernathy?" There's a bar cart full of liquor. If this was like any other year I would spend the night drinking it, but this isn't an ordinary year.

"I'm going to take a shower, have someone send me some coffee." The girl has an actual chance to win this thing.


	4. Seneca Crane

The festivities start the day before the reapings with an exclusive dinner at President Snow's Mansion. They serve plates of the best food Capitol has to offer, but they aren't the reason why people practically gouge each other eyes out for invitations. They go to rub shoulders with anyone who matters, and as Gamemaker, that night no one matters more than me.

The next day I'm trashed. My room at the Game Headquarters has a nice view of the Capitol hills, but I personally prefer the view of the private lake on my mansion. This is my third year as Gamemaker. For fifteen years I grinded my teeth and worked as a producer taking shit from hacks like Augustus Lars, who had the brilliant idea to place the Games on a winter arena. Where half of the tributes frozen to death and everybody hated. Then after spending two years playing save, showing to President Snow that I know what I'm doing, I now can finally put my mark on the Game.

I order in some food, a ton of hangover medicine and start to watch the reapings. Watching it alone is part of my creative process, I take notes and plot out possible storylines before I run them with the producers responsible to create them. I have twelve producers, one for each district, their job is to build trust with the tributes and manipulate them to follow the stories I'm telling. It's a hard job because most of the tributes are difficult, especially the older ones. An old tribute from an outline district? An absolute nightmare to work with.

The reaping ceremony starts with District 1, and it goes as usual. A couple of fourteen-year-olds get picked and the other ones race to the stage to volunteer for their place. District 2 goes next and Cato Thrasea is reaped, he's the son of Gallio Thrasea victor of the fifty-first Hunger Games. I laugh out loud when a single kid tries to volunteer at his place but Cato kicks him in the chest throwing him off the stage. This tribute has "victor material" written all over.

The ceremony gets boring after the last career is chosen, a plain face male tribute from District 4. Finnick Odair, one of my victors, is mentoring him, that automatically will get him a dozen sponsors. An eighteen-year-old from 11 gets reaped. Great, I'm sure he's going to be a breeze to work with, at least the little girl seems malleable.

District 12 is the last one. Hopely Haymitch will nosedive from the stage again so this ceremony can have something tv worthy. The escort from 12 reads the first name, Primrose Everdeen. We got lucky, now we have two twelve-year-olds, and this one looks even more malleable. Some other girl, an older one, screams her name. The peacekeepers try to hold her but she keeps on screaming. "I volunteer as tribute!" I practically spit my beverage. There isn't a volunteer from 12 since ever! Now that's something to work with. The little girl screams her name. Katniss. She must be her older sister or something.

The girl is a brunette. She has a good looking face, although her breasts could be bigger, and doesn't look like she has a foot on the grave like most tributes from 12. There is potential here, with some work we can make her a tragic hero, or even better a villain. The escort takes out the male tribute's name, and there is another twist. A boy also volunteers.

I'm standing up now, a volunteer from an outline district is rare, but two is unheard of it! Now that's great tv! And this boy is definitely hero potential, he's blonde, strong and handsome. Oh, and he pushes the escort aside to hug the girl, genius! My phone starts buzzing instantly, it's a message from Plutarch Heavensbee, my top producer, "I want 12."

Right after the anthem ends someone knocks on my door. I open it to see two security guards. "President Snow wants to see you."

I'm tense all the way to the mansion, President Snow usually sends me a good luck gift on overture day and we have lunch after the finale. He never talks to me right after the reapings. The guards lead me to the greenhouse behind the mansion. As soon as I enter it, I'm overwhelmed but the scent of roses. "Seneca Crane, I so glad you could join me today," President Snow says.

I have met the President on several occasions, but I still feel intimidated by him. He orders me to sit on a chair by his side. "You seem to have an interesting crop this year, Seneca," he says without looking at me, with a pair of scissors he plucks out the thorns of a white rose.

"I believe that too, sir," I try to maintain my voice even, "a son of a former victor always brings good ratings."

"I'm not talking about him," he stares at me, "I'm talking about the two volunteers from District 12." I swallow, even though my mouth feels full of sand.

"Yes, 12 did really stood out this year." I wish I could ask for some water.

"And who are you considering as their producer?" He puts the rose with a basket full of other white roses, which gives me a second to recompose myself.

"I was thinking on Plutarch Heavensbee," I answer.

"Plutarch Heavensbee, he's on a winning streak since Johanna Mason, isn't he?" The way he says Plutarch's name makes me wonder if he knows something about him that I don't.

"Yes, sir. We rarely have an opportunity to work with interesting tributes from 12. I wanted my best producer on it," I lie.

President Snow gives me a cold smile, "Did you?"

Maybe I made a mistake by lying, but backing down now would be worse, "Yes, sir. I did. " The President stares at nothing, as if he's lost on his own thoughts. I feel awkward with the silence, I want so much for this conversation to be over.

"Tell me, Seneca, have you ever been on the outline districts?" That catches me by surprise. Every year I either go on vacation on District 4 or go skiing on District 2. There isn't much to do on the other districts.

"No sir, I haven't," I say.

"There's a lot of poverty there, a lot of anger too," he continues "Did you notice that not a single person on District 12 clapped when those children volunteered?" I was so excited about the tributes that I didn't notice. It is true, the people on 12 stayed silent and did some weird three finger salute to the tributes. "I like you Seneca, so if you allow me, I'll give you an advice. Pay close attention to the story you're telling this year. Make sure it is the correct one."

I feel immensely better when I get back to the Game Headquarters. I'm late for my meeting with the producers, but I let them wait some more. There's no way I'm going to pick Plutarch for 12, he will stay with District 2 and be happy about it. I still need someone to produce the volunteers, the way they act makes me assume they are lovers, that's a complication we never had to deal with. Lavinia Avita is the best option. She's a competent producer, has a victor under her belt, even though this victor is Annie Cresta, and could convince a tribute to jump off a cliff if I asked her.

The producers' room has several screens all turned on recaps of the reaping, showing the tributes from different angles. In the center, a huge round table stacked with files. When we get a tribute, our research team gets all the information available about them, we use it to help with our stories, and as material to get them to trust us. My twelve producers joke around while placing pictures of the tributes in four different categories: victor material, tragic hero, villain and body count.

"Alright body, let's start with the victor material. Who we got first?" I sit on one of the chairs with my feet on the table and watch them scuffle with the files. I do not miss being a producer. At all.

"From District 1 we have Glimmer Amberwing, seventeen," a producer says. A school picture of her shows up on the main screen, and the girl is absolutely gorgeous. "School report says she has high social intelligence skills, is pretty good on melee combat, specially fighting with spears." Good, she's probably smart enough to know how to play the game. "She's also the tribute with the highest amount of pre-game sponsors, since a rumor started to circulate that she's a virgin." Damn Cashmere, already playing dirty.

"Okay, who's next?" I say.

There's some murmuring and a picture of a girl smirking appears. "Clove Armige, eighteen. School report says she has a high IQ, but the psychological report states that she shows signs of psychopathy." No surprise there, all tributes from 2 are psychos. "She also has a history of disciplinary suspension from school for torturing animals and even went through a public lashing for throwing a knife at the back of one of her classmates. The kid suffered a punctured lung." That's good, we can work her to backstab the other careers, maybe even have her as a villain victor.

"What about the other one from 2?" Plutarch gets his folder.

"Cato Thrasea, sixteen, he's the son of Gallio Thrasea who's also mentoring him. Has an average school record, and the psychological report says he is impatient and prone to bursts of rage." Now we have a problem. Violent outbreaks are great for tv, but they also mean an unpredictable tribute and a hard to control victor. The last thing we need is another Johanna Mason.

"We have to be sure he's workable, Plutarch why don't you talk with his father and see an approach we can use?" Plutarch looks at me with a mixture of surprise and anger. He's smart enough to know that if he complains right here, in front of the other producers I'll have to ask him to leave. And there is a line-up of potentials just waiting to take his place.

"I'll talk with Gallio while the tributes are on the makeover stage," he says.

A picture of a red-headed girl appears on screen, and I'm confused. She didn't stand up at all in the reaping, I only remember her because is my job. Lavinia gets her file. "From District 5 we have Ray Nightwillow, fifteen, I know what you guys are thinking, boring, ugly girl, completely unremarkable." We laugh, and I'm curious to see where she's going with this. "Well, but her school reports shows that foxface here has an IQ of 175, by far the highest of all tributes."

"Okay, that's impressive. Let's get her to form an alliance with the tributes from 3, maybe we'll get some tech-related kills, the arena this year is perfect for that. We rarely have those and they usually make on top ten kill counts." I let one of my new producers with 3 and a more experienced one with Foxface. We had genius kids before, they, more often than not, believe that they're smarter than they actually are.

"Now we have the monster from 11." Another producer gets his folder. "Tresh, T-resh, these outline districts have just awful names." Plutarch takes a quick glance at the file and states that the tribute's name is Thresh Riverberry. "Anyway, he's eighteen years old and the strongest of all the tributes, standing at 6'6" and weighing 220 pounds. He worked on the crops since he was seven and even got a special permission to leave school and work full-time to support his younger sister and elderly grandmother with dementia after he lost both of his parents." His life's story is boring and it's depressing me.

"But can we work with him?" I interrupt.

"Yes, his supervisor told the research team that he's the perfect worker, keeps to himself and does as he's told without complaining or asking questions." Good.

I stand up and catch the producers' attention. "While I watched the reaping I saw this finale on my mind. Our victor fighting to the death in the middle of the arena, while snow falls from the sky covering the ground. When it's over, we see the victor looking down at his competitor's blood, bright red on the white snow. But this finale will depend on the work we put in the minute the tributes leave the train and get the earpiece implanted."

"That's great but what about the star-crossed lovers from 12?" Lavinia asks. "None of the other tributes is getting the same amount of media attention, people love them." This name has to be Caesar's work. I did have a different story in mind, the two tragic lovers that die together because they can't bare to live without each other. But President Snow's advice keeps coming back to my mind.

"Okay, Lavinia, what do you got on the girl?" A picture of both tributes appears on the screen.

"They have similar files, both are sixteen and are below average students, they got caught sneaking out of school several times, and have barely passing grades. The male tribute is on the school's wrestling team and works on his family's bakery. The girl lost her father on a mining accident and has a younger sister, the little girl she volunteered to take her place."

I knew it was too good to be true, "So that's it, they are boring?"

Lavinia smiles, "Almost, they got in the waiting list to get the government stated house the day after the girl's fifteenth birthday, something rare even on a backward place like 12. However, our informants told us that the girl gets a little too friendly with an eighteen-year-old named Gale Hawthorne. Which they say isn't a relative, although I do have my doubts." They show a picture of him, he's broad-shouldered, handsome and a present from heaven.

"This Gale is the missing piece that we needed to tell their story. Lavinia you'll get 12. Don't introduce yourself until the first day of training, just listen and try to learn as much as you can about how they think, and what angle we can use." I'm ecstatic with myself.

"So, what are you planning to do with 12?" Plutarch asks.

"We're going to make them kill each other."


	5. Katniss Everdeen

After watching the recap we sit down for dinner. Peeta is getting me to eat every other hour, and I'm already sick of it. If the Capitol's food was good I think I could manage, but it is surprisingly bland. "Something wrong with your food dear?" Effie picks up on my lack of appetite.

"It's just that the Capitol's food is different, from home," I just don't get it, they look so delicious on tv but, here in front of me this beautiful plate of food tastes as good as a piece of paper.

"That's because it's drenched in chemicals," Haymitch says, and I lose the rest of my appetite.

"It's not drenched!" Effie retorts, "They just add something to make the food last longer." She picks up a flawless strawberry and holds it up, "This strawberry would never make back and forth between half Panem without Capitol's technology." I look at the cut on my hand it's completely healed, there isn't even a mark. My mother could've saved countless lives with this medicine, but those things never reach 12. We are only meant to serve, with our coal, and with our children.

"It must be nice to have access to that technology," I blurt out. I'm getting mad at Effie, and I don't even know why. Is not like she created the Hunger Games, or took Prim's name on purpose. I'm just angry at this whole situation.

"So you two are lovers," Haymitch's blunt statement startles me.

"We were planning on getting married, " Peeta says, and holds my hand under the table, "After our last reaping."

Haymitch looks at us, his jaw clenched tight, analyzing. "Listen, the Hunger Games isn't a sports competition. Your physical attributes will help you, sure, but on the bottom line, it's your story that will get you out of the arena alive," he says.

"You're talking about the 'star-crossed lovers' thing?" Caesar Flickerman called us that several times on the recap and people seemed to love that.

"Yes, both of you are the talk in the Capitol. There is even a bidding war starting over the rights to your story, for books, movies, and tv shows. In a way both of you are already victors, really," Effie giggles at us.

"Yeah. The only thing left is to kill 23 people," Peeta's hand closes tighter on mine, I know I shouldn't say it, but I don't regret it.

"This is actually a good thing. People like to live vicariously through the lives of the tributes. You showed them the story of two tragic young lovers from an outline district, and they ate that shit up," Haymitch leans in his chair, his hands are shaking, but he tries to disguise it by holding a cup of coffee, "So how did you two met?"

We'll never tell the actual story to anyone. Peeta and I are embarrassed by it; although, for different reasons. Peeta tells Haymitch the short version, the one I told my own family years ago, "We were eleven. Katniss was at the bakery when a storm started. She couldn't make her way back home, so I invited her to stay in and have dinner with my family. We became friends after that." Haymitch looks unimpressed, as anyone would. The real story has a lot more to it.

There really was a storm, but I wasn't at the bakery buying bread. I was in the backyard looking through the garbage cans for something to eat. After my father died my mother had a mental breakdown, so Prim and I were left to fend for ourselves. The Capitol gave us some compensation money for his death, which we rationed all through winter but eventually, we ran out of it, and soon after, we ran out of food. We still had a month before spring, where I could sign up for tesserae and get us grain if we could only survive it.

I was in the market trying to sell some of Prim's baby clothes when the rain started. People started to leave but I was determined to get back home with food, I couldn't bear to look at Prim's hollow hungry eyes. I was desperate, the garbage cans behind the stores were my last hope, but they were empty. My clothes were drenched, and I could feel the cold on my bones. At that moment I lost all hope.  _Maybe it's for the best_ , I thought, then  _I'll be with dad._  I lean in against a tree and wait for death, but Peeta found me instead.

He carried me inside the bakery and lay me down by the oven. "Here," he hands me a bowl of broth. In any other circumstance, I've said no, but my hunger didn't care about my pride. Every spoon of broth felt like life coming back inside of me. When it was over, I handed the bowl back to Peeta, who just gathered Prim's clothes in a bag.

"Thank you," I said. "I should go. I don't want to give you any more problems." I make a motion to get up, but Peeta holds my hand.

"You won't give me any problems Katniss. Please stay, at least until the rain passes." The storm wasn't that bad anymore. I could go home if I wanted to, in fact, I probably should go, but I didn't. At that moment, the only thing I want to do is stay with him.

We stay sitting by the oven listening to the rain and the crackling from the wood burning. "Where are your parents?" I ask, noticing that the place is completely silent.

"My brother Rye fell off the roof, so they took him to the apothecary." Peeta tries to contain a smile. That's a weird reaction. If my sister got hurt, I would worry sick for her. Peeta seems to notice my confusion and jumps to explain, "It's just that he spent weeks saying that he could do a backflip from the roof, and my brother Gram and I said he would break his neck. He didn't, he twisted his ankle, but he did do a backflip." Peeta laughs, and I catch myself laughing too. Since my father's death, that was the first time I felt happy.

Mrs. Mellark's voice startles us, "You go back to that hell hole you came from, right now!" Peeta jumps off the floor and stands between her and me. That seems to make her angrier. She punches Peeta in his face, knocking him on the floor. I bolt for the door, not before I take some hits from her as well. When I reached the Steam, my adrenaline wears off enough to notice how heavy the bag was. Far too heavy to have just Prim's old clothes. As soon as I get home, I open the bag, and it's full of food, milk, eggs, and bread. Two loaves of hearty bread, filled with raisins and nuts. I thought there must be a mistake. That during the fight, I got the wrong bag, but under the food, I found Prim's clothes.

The next day felt like spring came overnight. Instead of rain, the Sun shined bright and warm. Holding hands, Prim and I make our way to school with our stomachs full for the first time in months. I look out for Peeta, to say thanks, but he wasn't at school that day. I only found him after, in the schoolyard. He sat alone under a tree, drawing on a notebook. Not only his cheek had swelled up, and his eye had blackened, his whole arms were covered in bruises. "Hey," Peeta says with a faint smile.

I had a million things to say to him, to thank him for his kindness, to say that I was sorry for what happened, but I can only manage to ask, "Can I sit with you?"

Peeta moves to the side making room for me. We sit side by side in silence, watching the clouds. "She doesn't do it very often," he says teary-eyed, "she just loses control sometimes." All this time I thought merchant kids had an easy life, going to bed with their bellies full, without fear of starvation. But at that moment I learned that life has several ways to chip off pieces of you, to kill the happiness inside of us if we let it. I take Peeta's hand and intertwine our fingers together.

"Thank you," I say, locking my eyes on his, and I notice for the first time how blue they are, and, even with the bruising, they are beautiful.

Peeta drops his gaze, his face turning red. "I just had to do it," he says, looking at our hands.

"Why?" I ask, suddenly curious, we had some classes together, but Peeta and I never spoke before yesterday, I didn't even though he knew my name.

"Because you used to sing," he says, "You used to sing every day after class, while you're going home with your sister, and all the mockingjays stopped to listen." I never imagined someone was paying attention to that. "Can you sing again?" Peeta's voice is small and full of embarrassment.

I never sing for anyone outside my family, but Peeta didn't feel like just a boy from my class anymore. He became special to me in a way that I wouldn't completely understand until we kissed for the first time later that year. I gently place his head on my lap and sing one of the songs my father used to sing for my mother. We stay this way for a while, Peeta, with his eyes closed, and a bright smile on his face and me caressing his blond hair. That's when I saw it, all the way across the schoolyard, the first dandelion of the spring. "What are you thinking about?" Peeta asks.

"Hope," I answer, "I'm thinking about hope."

"So, that's it?" Haymitch couldn't look less interested in the story.

"We were eleven, what else do you want?" Peeta retorts.

"Something a little more marketable. Don't get me wrong, your story is cute, but it needs more flair," he says, while Effie nods in agreement. "The star-crossed lovers' thing is new, right now you two have the media's attention, and that could work well for you, but you need to play for all it is worth."

"And how do you expect us to do that?" I say, afraid of what Haymitch has in mind.

"Tomorrow morning we'll reach the Capitol, and you'll meet your stylists. As soon as you step off this train you need to show the country that both of you are absolutely, madly, ready to end it all, in love with each other." I'm not comfortable with this, at all. Haymitch seems to pick up on my anger. "Do you think you can manage to do that, sweetheart?" I hate the condescending way he calls me sweetheart, but he is right. If I want to come back home alive I have to do what Haymitch says, but that also means that Peeta will have to die. What kind of life would be left for me without him?

I'm about to lock myself in my bedroom when Peeta stops the door. He's holding sleeping clothes and a toothbrush. "And who said I wanted to sleep with you?" I meant to sound serious, but my smile betrays me.

"I don't need to, I know you." He closes the door behind him and holds me in his arms. We stay like this for a while.

"I'm still mad at you for volunteering," and that's partially true, but I'm also glad he is here, that I don't have to face any of this alone.

"You would've done the same thing for me and you know it. You love me Mockingjay, just as much as I love you," he says, and it hurts me to accept that I wouldn't have done it. If I did, I wouldn't be dooming just myself, but Prim too. As much as I love him, I couldn't sacrifice Prim's life to be with Peeta. I never thought I would have to face such confusing decisions. I wish I could be back on 12. To be alone in the forest, where I could think and make sense of this madness. But chances are, neither of us is coming back to 12 alive.

"Come on, let's go to bed," I finally say, pushing those thoughts away.

"You know, I don't think we ever done this," Peeta says, changing his clothes. He's right, we had sex several times before, but we never had the opportunity to spend the night on the same bed. Since we share our rooms with our siblings and both of our parents would kill us.

"You like to sleep with the windows open?" I'm surprised, the air temperature drops a few degrees, but not as much as I would expect.

"Yeah, it just gets too stuffy in here. I hope you don't mind," he says.

"I don't. It gives me a reason to cuddle up with you."

We lay on the bed together, Peeta notices the pin Madge gave me on the nightstand. "When did get this?"

"This morning, I trade it with Madge for some strawberries." That feels like it happened a lifetime ago. I wonder how they are doing back on 12. If my mother is holding Prim while she cries, or if she's back in the chair by the stove, where she sat for months when my father died.

"It's a blue jay?" Peeta's voice brings my mind back to reality. It takes me a second to realize he's talking about the pin.

"No, it's a mockingjay. The beak is longer, see?" I say pointing it.

"It really suits you," he pulls me closer, whispering on my ear so the Capitol bugs in our room can't pick it up. "Got a song for me, Mockingjay?"

I smile and whisper back, "Always."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what do you guys think about the twist on Katniss and Peeta's backstory? I think that if Peeta had a chance, he would have done this for her. And I also want to thank you guys for the reviews. They're helping me a lot to be more mindful when I'm writing the chapters and encouraging me to write faster. That is exactly what I need it.
> 
> The next chapter will be out next Saturday, and we'll finally get to the Capitol!


	6. Gallio Thrasea

I hate the overnight train ride, it's a waste of time. It takes only three hours to get from District 2 to the Capitol, but we have to travel at a slug's pace because of the 'body count' districts. They live too far from the Capitol to reach it in less of a day, and because of the cameras and the fans, all the districts have to arrive at the train station at the same hour. At least the train has a gym, so Cato doesn't miss on his morning training. If he's anything like me, he probably spent the night there preparing for the game.

We decided to volunteer this year because Cato is at the same age I was when I volunteered for my game. But fate pulled a prank on us and Cato's name got picked anyway. As a game strategy that's as bad as it can get. Volunteering shows the sponsors that you're a willing competitor, that you're there to win. Luckily Cato turned things back on his side when he kicked that other boy on the chest. I couldn't have done better myself.

The Sun is not up yet, but I get up anyway. As I expected, Cato is at the gym. By the look of him, he didn't sleep a single minute yesterday. "How are you doing son?" He stops hitting the punching bag, his face is all red, and his arms are trembling.

"Honestly, I'm a little nervous, dad," he says, and it shows, I can't believe this kid.

"Nervous? After all we trained? You don't get to be nervous Cato! That's for 'body count' districts, not us!"

"You know what dad, it's just adrenaline. It's not a big deal," he says walking away from me. He knows I hate when he does that.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Cato! I'm the one who says when the conversation is over, not you!" I'm furious right now, who this dumb kid thinks he is?

"I just don't want to talk about it dad," his meek voice makes my insides boil, I slap him hard on his face. Cato looks at me in shock, eyes full of tears. So help me God he's better not start crying.

This is all Cato's fault. If he was more like me, we wouldn't be having a problem. After our embarrassing performance on the Quarter Quell, I knew I was the one who had to take the title back home to 2, and I did. I didn't get half of his training, but I pulled through and became a victor. Now Cato needs to stop being a baby and do what he's meant to do, bring pride to our district. I grab him by the collar and push him against the wall. He's heavy, but I'm strong enough to hold him there.

"Now you listen to me you little shit. You are going to man up and got back to your room to get ready for the cameras. If I see you cry again, I'm going to give all the sponsors' credits to Clove. Is that what you want? To see that psycho with your money?" I can see the rage building up on his eyes.

"No, sir," he says, clenching his teeth.

"Good, now go take a shower." He's no victor yet, as much as I tried, I couldn't kill the boy inside of him. What I got will have to do, there is no other option, there is no second place in the Hunger Games.

Our new escort doesn't shut up for a second during breakfast. I think Clove makes her nervous. I knew about Clove's reputation before she volunteered for the games, I was there when they lashed her. She didn't scream or cry, not once. I can't tell what's going on her mind, and that makes me anxious. The only time she shows some form of emotion is when we cross the mountains and reach the Capitol.

"Check it out!" Cato is practically screaming with excitement.

The Capitol never looks as good as the first time you see it. The bright colours, the beautiful women, the cool cars, I let the kid enjoy it while he can because it's all a mirage. Next year when he comes back for the victory tour, this place will look like the morning after a party. But even as the colors fade and you start to notice only the freaks among the capitol people, the Hunger Games remain the same. That's the only thing that makes all of this worth it.

The train station is full of people, reporters, and cameras. All of them are here to get a closer look at the competitors. That's the moment when the madness starts. Teenage girls in puffy colourful wigs scream Cato's name and try to grab him, the cameras' flashes blind us. We wave, smile and take pictures with fans while security pushes us to keep walking to our cars. It's a short walk, but it feels like an eternity. My ears are still ringing when we reach the makeover center.

While Cato and Clove are hushed to get prepped for the Chariot Ride, Enobaria and I are prepped for our press conference with the other mentors at the Training Center. It's mandatory, but is a good way to get sponsors and gives me a chance to explain why Atlas, our victor from last year games' isn't here like he's supposed to.

We barely have time to greet the other mentors when they announce our names to move to the press conference room. The moderator calls our districts numbers, followed by our names, and we walk to our places. More flashes from cameras and loud ovation. Enobaria and I sit in the side of the table with "District 2" written on a plaque. The reaction from the reporters winds out after some time. The last districts enter the room with polite, but lukewarm applause.

I would feel ashamed to be from one of the outline districts. They tarnish the legacy of the Hunger Games. The careers, in general, don't receive any advantage during the game. It's no secret that we train harder, and our victors are the result of that work. And I take great pride in them. Since Cato is part of a legacy, it's customary that I get more attention than the other mentors. A reporter in a bright purple suit stands up. "Good afternoon, my question is for District 12."

You have to be kidding me. The press conference lasts forty minutes, and I they asked me only one question, I didn't even get to explain why Atlas wasn't here! 12 gets lucky one year, and now all the news channels start to act like they matter. These tributes will probably die in the Bloodbath anyway. There is no reason to get all worked up about them.

After the press conference, we're ushered to the room where we'll watch the Chariot Ride. I'm not much of a drinker, but after that press conference I need a drink. Gloss and Cashmere come by to say hello and congratulate me on Cato's reaping. They are mentoring two seventeen-year-olds named Marvel and Glimmer. District 1 is our biggest competition. They not only send their deadliest competitors, they also are usually the most attractive ones. Which never fails to get the attention of the Capitol's pervert sponsors, who pay a fortune for a night with a victor from 1. I wonder if their tributes know that before volunteering.

Gloss is in the middle of telling a story when an Avox come by with a note asking me to follow him. I excuse myself and follow the man through a maze of corridors going deep into the Training Center, until we reach a small room. There I found that bastard Plutarch Heavensbee. "What the hell do you want?" I say gathering all my strength to not jump at his throat.

"I see that you're still upset about what happened last year." I can't believe the nerve on this guy, because of him our victor Atlas Kentwell threw himself out of a flight of stairs just so he couldn't be mentoring this year.

"Do you have any idea how many sponsors are we losing because of you?" Plutarch orders the Avox to wait outside and asks me to sit on the only other chair in the room.

"The sponsors aren't that important in this year. Not with the arena Seneca made. What you need is a good producer," he says.

"Don't tell me you're producing us again." Last year was a nightmare. On the very first night, Atlas killed all the careers and set the supplies on fire. All because the producers wanted more action. It took us months to mend our relationship with the other career districts after that.

"Luckily for you, I am. Times are changing Gallio, people want more story centered games, the usual isn't working anymore," Plutarch says.

"Once you're in the arena the story doesn't matter, the strongest tribute always wins," I say.

Plutarch shakes his head, "Not always, remember Beetee's games?" Of course I remember. The egghead electrocuted six tributes. Now he refuses to mentor because he says that's  _too much for him_. And yet, he has no problems working with the team that builds the arenas. Even that drunk Haymitch has more dignity. "Look, I was talking with the producers from 1 and 4, we all think Cato has a lot of potential, if I could bet on any tribute I would put all my money on him, but I'm concerned about his temper. He needs to listen to me."

I don't think this is going to work at all, it should be me telling Cato what to do, but the rules don't allow that. As soon as he's in the arena the only thing I can do as a mentor is to send him sponsors' gifts and hope he doesn't do anything stupid. "Cato wouldn't listen to anyone but me. The only thing he cares about is to win at any cost it takes," I say. Plutarch takes a moment to process the information looking at me with what I think is suspicion in his eyes.

"I see," he smiles, "I think we can work with that."

Plutarch excuses himself, and I follow the Avox back to the mentors' lounge. The Chariot Ride is about to start, so we make our way to one of the balconies to watch the event. I get to be alone for less than a minute when Finnick Odair and Johanna Mason join me. "Gallio! I saw that your kid got lucky this year," he says.

Finnick and Johanna are the worst of the new generation of victors. They both think this whole thing is a joke. Instead of concentrating all his efforts on mentoring his tributes, year after year they come to the Capitol to go to parties and whore themselves to anyone with enough money to spend. At least the other victors that have to prostitute themselves have the decency to be discreet about it. These two, on the other hand, seem to enjoy it.

"Yes, we are very fortunate. He would've volunteered, but luck got the best of us this year," I say.

Johanna lets out a laugh louder than I expect. "Yes, seems like sons and daughters of victors are born blessed with a great amount of luck. Must be in the genes," she says in an overly sarcastic tone. It's an open secret among mentors that the Capitol fix the reapings to increase the probability of having a victor's son in the games; however, not all victors had a child reaped, only the ones with potential.

"Or maybe some districts just breed better victors than others." Cato's reaping wasn't an accident, I'm sure of it. "And this year, 2 is going to have another legacy victor. Mark my words."

"Yes, that could be true. But did you see that boy from 11? Chaff can't shut up about him," Finnick says. I'm tempted to laugh at Chaff's excitement. He also got lucky this year, the boy is built like an ox, but he lacks Cato's training and focus.

"We saw him on the recaps, Cato can't wait to pull a sword through his heart." The music from the ceremony starts to play on the speakers. President Snow and his Generals make their entrance.

"Not if the boy kills him first," Johanna says. There is no emotion in her voice, not humour or sarcasm. She's stating the fact that the tribute from 11 might kill my son. It's funny that she thinks that's a possibility.

"Outline districts are here to be body count before the actual game starts. They may get lucky every once in a while, but the careers are the ones that people want to see as victors." The Chariot Ride starts, District 1 leads the way in a silver chariot pulled by snow-white horses. Cato follows them in a chariot pulled by two black horses. He wears a golden armor, a modern version of the one I wore on my Chariot Ride. Sometimes, back home, I close my eyes and I can still feel the cold wind on my face, and the crowd shouting my name. However is not my name the crowd screams this year, neither is Cato's.

"Looks like Haymitch also got lucky this year," she says. District 12's chariot had barely entered the street, and it catches the crowd's attention. From the far distance, it appears that are flames going out of them. It must be my eyes distorting the image.

"The lovers' thing is just a gimmick. It won't pan out in the end." As they move closer and I can't believe what I see. The tributes from 12 have actual flames going out of them. As if that wasn't already enough to grab all the attention, the two decide to share a long passionate kiss. Even President Snow's speech is muffled by the crowd screaming their names.

Finnick turns to me before they leave to see their tributes and says in a quiet voice, "Even you have to admit Gallio, that's a very good gimmick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So what do you guys think about evil-Haymitch? Do you hate him? I know I do. But I hope it'll shed some light on Cato's actions and motivations.
> 
> Also, Johanna's backstory is going to be some what different from the books, but I won't get into it right now. That's for the future.


	7. Katniss Everdeen

My heart is still racing when the chariots enter the Training Center. We can still hear people screaming our names from the City Circle. Peeta jumps off the chariot and holds me by the waist spins me in circles.

"That was amazing!" he says, practically screaming.

Before I could say something we're engulfed by the prep teams, who are nearly unintelligible as they praise us and make us stay still while take off our capes and headdresses.

The mentors get off the elevators to find their tributes, and we get to see some familiar faces. Finnick Odair, one of the youngest victors in the history of the Hunger Games, and a walking tabloid headline. The girls in my school often spend the very little money they have buying pictures of him. Johanna Mason, who fooled the other tributes and maybe even the producers into thinking she was a fragile little girl. When they realized how deadly she was, it was too late. She even killed her own District partner.

"That's Gallio Thrasea," Peeta whispers in my ear, looking at the middle-aged man that just left one of the elevators. "He's the father of the guy from District 2."

Gallio's game happened long before we were born. Unlike the most of the other mentors, who let themselves go after years of drinking and morphling abuse, Gallio looks like he's ready to go back to the arena. And if his stares are any indication, Peeta and I would be the firsts he'd hunt.

"That was a marvelous performance!" Effie gushes, beyond herself. We are the first team she works with that manage to draw some attention during the Chariot Ride. She continues to bombard us with compliments, and I look around and notice the other tributes staring at us, while their mentors talk with them. Some look at us with sadness, others envy, but the careers look at us with pure hate.

"Let's go to our floor," Haymitch says, also looking at the other tributes.

Each district gets their own floor. 12, being the last, gets the penthouse. The elevator ride to our floor is exhilarating. I grew up climbing trees and learned to love the sensation of being on high places. Seeing through the elevator's crystal walls the people shrinking and the top of the Capitol's buildings is amazing. I'm tempted to ask Effie if I could ride it again, but that seems childish.

"Welcome to your new home!" Effie exclaims. The Training Center it's where we'll eat, sleep and train. The only time we'll leave this place will be when we make the Farewell Ride, a parade where we'll ride to the hoverport on convertibles and wave at the Capitol people, who will send us their goodbyes before we enter the arena.

"Come on. I'll give you the tour," Effie says. The apartment is huge, my house alone could fit in the living room. Effie explains to us that all apartments have the same floor plan. There are six bedrooms, two for the tributes, one for the escort, two for the mentors and one for the mentor in training, the new victor. In our case, I guess we'll have a few empty rooms.

After the night on the train, Peeta and I decided to share the bedroom in the Training Center too. We didn't really talk about it, but this will be our only chance to live as a normal couple, and we want to enjoy those moments for as long as we can. Someone seemed to notice that and put all of our clothes in one bedroom. Effie didn't mention anything, but I think she had something to do with that.

Our bedroom looks like a bigger version of the one on the train. There are so many gadgets that we lose track of time pushing all the buttons. The closet has a screen where I can choose an outfit, and a moving image of me shows up in the clothes. I pick one and all to clothes hanging in the closet move until the one I picked shows up in front of me.

"Hey Katniss, come here!" Peeta yells from the bathroom. I lay the clothes on the bed and found Peeta looking dumbfounded at the panel that controls the shower. "Do you have any idea how this thing works?"

Comparing with the wooden bathtub and the bucket of water we use on 12, this, as most things at the Capitol, looks like something from another planet. Peeta presses a couple of buttons, but nothing happens. I see a blue button with a drawing that looks like rain and decide to give it a try. Water starts to pour from all the sides of the shower. Peeta and I are bombarded with hot water, freezing cold water, cinnamon scent soap, mint scent soap, and some other things I have no idea what they are.

"Turn that damn thing off!" I scream to him, with soap in my eyes. I'm starting to think I'll be the first tribute to ever be killed by a shower when Peeta finds the right button and ends this nightmare.

"Are you two okay? I heard you screaming." Effie has a worried look on her face, but it takes her only a second to realize the problem. "Don't worry about the other bottoms, just press those two for warm water, this one for soap and the blue one to turn it on and off." She takes a look at us head to toe, completely wet and embarrassed, "but I guess you figured that one out."

"Thank you, Effie," we say, and I don't know about Peeta, but that's the first time in a while that I felt like a child.

"All right, try to not be late for dinner, but remember, you're two aren't alone," she says as she points to her ear, reminding us of the earpieces the prep team implanted into our ear canals. They're tiny metal circles so light you can easily forget they are there. They're supposed to be our way to communicate with our producer. But so far he, or she, didn't say a word.

"Okay, I feel like I had enough of the shower experience," Peeta says, leaving the shower and taking off the soaked unitard. I can't help to notice how different he looks without chest hair. It seems to accentuate his muscles. Peeta notices me staring, and gives me a crooked smile, "Or maybe you want some company?"

"Maybe," I say with a fake tone of bashfulness, "but we're running out of time and we shouldn't start something we can't finish."

"We can finish fast, trust me," Peeta says, as he goes back to the shower, unzips my unitard and starts to kiss my neck.

"I wouldn't be so proud of that if I were you," I say. Peeta's muffled laugh tickles my collarbone and sends shivers all over my body. I guess we're going to be late for dinner.

To my surprise, Peeta and I weren't the last people to show up at the table. Our stylists Cinna and Portia were also late. We're finishing the soup when they come in apologizing. After our smashing success at the Chariot Ride, all the news channels wanted to get an interview with them.

"Everybody is talking about you two. The kiss was whose idea?" Cinna asks. I try to recollect the event, it was just a couple of hours ago, but only some moments stand out in my memories.

After Cinna set our capes on fire, we enter the city and are immediately overwhelmed with the pounding music and the screams of the people of the Capitol. At first, I'm frozen in fear and anxiety, holding on Peeta's hand as my life depended on it. But then I start to realize what they are screaming, my name, and Peeta's, and our district's. They throw flowers and gold coins at us.  _They're going to love you!_  Cinna's voice comes back to my mind, he was right, people love do us, the star-crossed lovers from the outline district.

Peeta looks breathtakingly beautiful, the firelight flickers off his blue eyes, making them glow like stars. He looks at me, and I think he sees something similar in my eyes because his smile fades into an expression of awe. I don't know who leaned in first, maybe we both did at the same time, but for a few moments, the Capitol and even the Hunger Games didn't matter. At that moment there was only the two of us in the world.

I look at Peeta, who has a shy smile on his face, and I know he remembers it the same way I do. "I guess the idea was from both of us," I say to Cinna.

"That's genius, just the right touch of rebellion these games need," Haymitch says. Rebellion? I didn't even consider that angle. But comparing to the other tributes, who didn't even acknowledge each other, Peeta and I look like the perfect rebel lovers, unwilling to conform to our fate.

The dinner goes on uneventful. The food is as terrible as the one on the train. After the soup, they serve us portions after portions of things that I can't pronounce or care enough to remember the names. The only thing that makes me excited is the cake. A young blonde girl, dressed in a white tunic, brings it to us a gorgeous white cake that she promptly sets on fire. "This is beautiful. Thank you," I say, and she nods silently.

"Who did you make this?" Peeta asks, and the girl nods again and hurries away from the table. "Did I said some wrong?"

"Peeta, you can't ask her questions. She's an Avox," Effie says, and we look at her shocked. "Go back to the kitchen," Effie orders her, the Avox nods again and leaves.

Every child on District 12 grew up hearing about the Avoxes. They're part of the collection of tales about the Capitol's cruelty we tell as kids when we want to make each other scared, like the pasty white mutts on the sewer, or the people buried alive on District 13. After you grow up these things became just stories, starvation is the real horror you have to fight. Except during the Hunger Games, everything else the Capitol does loses its importance. But right now, looking at the other five young men and women serving us, all wearing the same white tunics, those stories feel all too real.

After dinner we go back to our room, I get ready for bed and Peeta finds a remote control that changes the view of the windows for different settings. A starry night, a snowy plane, a city landscape, he stops at a forest. We sit on the bed staring at it.

The sounds of the birds chirping take me back and I can almost smell the pine trees and damp soil from the woods outside District 12. I wish I enjoyed more the last time I was there, to went after that deer like Gale wanted.

"You know, I keep thinking about how are things back on 12," Peeta says. A grim expression crosses his face, but he quickly puts on a smile. "One thing is sure. They're talking about us. And this time the story is actually true."

The gossip is the only thing I truly detest about District 12. It's a small place, and rumours run fast there. I think it's because people seem to forget their own misery when they talk about others. Peeta and I were the targets of this rumours a few times. Once that I was pregnant with his child, which is practically impossible since all the girls get a birth control shot on vaccination day as soon they became eligible to enter the Hunger Games. No one wants to see a pregnant teenager dying on tv, and if being pregnant made you ineligible, there would be dozens of pregnant girls. There was the rumour that Peeta was using me to get a cheaper price on the game I hunt. Some envious merchant probably started that one. But the absolute worst one is that I'm cheating on Peeta with Gale.

I met Gale when I was thirteen. He's two years older than me, and at fifteen he looked like a man. We didn't get along at all when we met. It took us a couple of months to see that we could gain a lot more by working together than competing for game. When we started to show up at the Hob to make trades together, the rumours began. Unfortunately, Peeta found out about it before me. We talked about it, and I stated that I wasn't going to stop hunting with Gale over some dumb rumours. He said he was okay with that, but I think that even after all these years, it still bothers him.

We got to bed and lay there in silence, my head on his chest, where I hear the strong and steady beats of his heart. Him, drawing circles on the back of my shoulder with his thumb. "I love you. You know that don't you?" I say.

"Of course I do." He pulls me closer, and we kiss.

It's still dark outside when I wake up. My heart races inside my chest and my head aches. I have no idea what I dreamed about, but I know it must have been something horrible. Prim and I started to have nightmares after our father died, and even after we found stability in our lives again, they never fully stopped. She still wakes up screaming. I still wake up trembling and tasting blood on my mouth. We rarely remember what happened, and when we do, we wish we didn't.

Peeta is sound asleep, and I don't want to wake him. So I sneak out of bed and head to the shower. I press the buttons the same way Effie demonstrated, and this ends up to be actually pleasant. We don't have showers on the Seam, only bathtubs that need to be filled with buckets of water, and they don't feel nearly as nice as this. After it, I put my hair in the single braid down my back and take the clothes the tributes are supposed to use on the training section. Tight black pants, a shirt with the number 12 embroidered on the sleeves, and leather shoes.

Haymitch didn't say what time we have to meet him for breakfast, but the routine of eating every other hour Peeta insisted on is turning my stomach into a bottomless well. So I head down to the dining room, hoping there will be food.

Effie is already there with a pile of folders in front of her and a mug on her hand. Her hair is now in a light violet shade, that goes with her outfit and makeup. That probably takes hours to put it together, and yet she seems like she's going over this papers for a while. When does she sleep?

"Oh Katniss, I'm glad you're awake. I need to talk with you about something." She motions for me to sit on the chair next to her, she snaps her fingers, and an Avox seems to materialize practically out of thin air.

"More coffee," she says and turns to me, "Would you like some?"

I never had coffee before, only a few merchants on 12 can afford it. To me, it doesn't look any different from tea, but people on tv talk about it like is the greatest thing on Panem, so most out of curiosity, I accept it. The Avox comes back right away with a mug for me and a coffee pot. My mug gets filled with a shiny black liquid, that smells a lot stronger than tea. It has a sharp bitter taste, and it isn't terrible, but I can't see why people love it so much.

"So, we got offers," she says. Her eyes grow as she stares at the table full of what I assume are contracts. "We got deals for books, movies, tv shows, among other things. After last night every producing company in the Capitol wants a piece of the hottest couple in the Hunger Games!"

A piece of us. As if forcing us to fight to the death for entertainment wasn't enough, they want to profit from us long after we're dead. There's an odd feeling going through my body. It feels like anxiety but is coming in a lot stronger. There's a pressure on my chest, and I need air. I get up and leave the room almost running, while Effie shouts my name behind me.

I walk aimlessly through the corridors, if before I thought this apartment was big, now the walls feel like they are closing in on me. I find the staircase by accident, I don't know if I'm allowed on it or not, but I don't care. At the end of it, there's an unlocked door. Behind it, the rooftop of the Training Center.

The coffee I drank comes back unannounced. It tastes even worse mixed with the acidity from my stomach, and the mess I make on the floor looks and smells disgusting. At least the feeling isn't as bad as before. The rooftop doesn't look off-limits, there is even a garden in it. I sit down on one of the benches, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

After a while the effects from the coffee seem to start to fade away, my breathing slows down, and the pressure on my chest starts to dissipate. People must be crazy to drink this every day.

"Effie is trying to help, you know," a voice on my head says, and it makes me jump out of my skin. I'm gasping, and the voice lets out a polite laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Lavinia your producer."

So she's the one Haymitch told us not to trust.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't talk with you sooner. We had a problem with the devices. It took us all night to get them to work." I think that's a lie, but I can't tell for sure. Growing up trading and making deals made me very aware of when someone is lying. But with sound only, it's ten times harder. "But now I'm here, and I just have to say that what you did for your sister was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

"I promised that I wouldn't let anything bad happen to her," I admit.

"I know. I have a daughter, and I would do the same thing for her in a heartbeat." Like she'll ever have to face this decision, her daughter will probably have a long happy life watching other people's children die on tv. "You're probably thinking,  _what does she knows_ , right?"

"Something like that." I let out a small laugh.

"Yes, it's true that I would never know what you are going through, but I do know what's like to love someone so much, that you're willing to sacrifice everything for that person," she says.

"And that's your daughter?" I ask, but my mind goes back to Prim.

"Yes, after I lost my husband, she became my whole world." Lavinia's voice is a mixture of tenderness and sadness, "I would do anything to keep her safe, no matter the cost."

The Sun rises illuminating the Capitol's buildings. Prim is probably up by now, taking care of the goat or getting ready for school. Unlike me, she's actually a good student, who wants to be a healer like our mom. It breaks my heart to think of her starving, or having to take tresseares, or worse, become one of the girls standing outside of our head peacekeeper's door ready to sell their bodies to him.

"You think I should sign Effie's papers," I say. Maybe that could make all of this worth something.

"Most Tributes don't get that opportunity, you know?" she says. "This way even if you die, your family will never have to worry about money again."

I have to admit, she's right. I'm ready to go back inside and sign the papers when Haymitch's words come rushing through my mind.  _Do not trust her_. And I stop. "I'm going to talk with Peeta first. Since is also his family."

"Of course. It's your sister's future, you definitely should run it by with your boyfriend," she says, and it may be my own distrust acting, but I have the intense feeling that she just tried to manipulate me. ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the delay. This ended up being one of the longest chapters so far, and I wanted to get it just right. So leave a review and let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Chapter 8 will [hopely] be out next Sunday.


	8. Peeta Mellark

"Peeta, wake up."

Katniss' voice is so sweet and soft that I caught myself smiling even before opening my eyes. I asked Katniss to marry me because I wanted our love to last forever, to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life. Now that I know how little time I have left, these little moments fill me with pure joy and sadness.

"Come on Peeta. I know you're not sleeping anymore, open your eyes." Katniss starts to tickle me, and I can't hold still. She sees a reaction from me, and that encourages her to do it more.

"Okay, okay! You win!" I say out of breath because I can't stop laughing. We sit up straight, and I notice that she has been up for a while. "You had a nightmare didn't you?"

"Yeah, I woke up a couple of hours ago." The nightmares are something common in Katniss life, but she doesn't like to talk about them. That's a part of her life she doesn't let me in. "I got to met our producer. Her name is Lavinia."

Right before we left the train, Haymitch warned us about the producers. The trick the game so the Capitol can have a better show. The tributes with the potential to win get great help from them, but the ones who don't are better off alone.

"And what did she say?"

Katniss opens her mouth to say something but stops it. "What?" I mouth to her. She points to her ear, where the earpiece was implanted.

"She seems nice, friendly. Just like Haymitch told us." She has a worried look on her face.

"That's good," I say, so we need to be even more careful from now on.

"I also talked with Effie about the deals to sell our story. It got me thinking. Maybe they could help our families."

Katniss body language is completely different when she talks about the deals. In front of other people, she puts an image of being tough and independent, a person that would do the impossible to keep her family safe, which is true, but that's someone she had to become to survive. In moments like this, when is just us two she can allow herself to be just a sixteen-year-old girl, afraid of what will happen to her family.

"I agree, I think we should do it." I lean in closer to Katniss and give her a reassuring smile. "I want everyone to know that I, Peeta Mellark, got to love the most amazing girl in the world and that she loved me back, and while it lasted, I was the happiest man alive."

"Are you sure? They'll have to investigate things, about our lives." It's no secret on 12 that my mother is a horrible woman. More than once parents of kids from the Seam came to the bakery to complain that she beat their children for going through our garbage hoping to find food. She would always laugh and tell them that if they stop wasting money on white liquor, they could feed their kids.

In my mother's mind, everyone from the Seam is either a drunk or a whore. It only got worse when she found out that I was going out with Katniss. She would beat me screaming that I was a worthless idiot to go after a girl from the Seam. After the rumours that Katniss was cheating on me with Gale started, she would laugh at me and tell me someone saw them in an alley kissing or that they were probably having sex every time they went out to hunt.

"It'll help Prim, and my mother will finally have the version of me she always wanted. One that doesn't talk back, never grows up and she can put it on her shelf." I just hope my dad and my brothers will forgive me for this.

Katniss gives a sad smile and hugs me tight. "That woman will never know how lucky she is to have a son like you, and that's her loss," she whispers in my ear, and I have to fight back the tears coming up.

We still have a couple of hours until is time to go to training, so I take my time in the shower. Katniss is with Effie starting to separate the deals that'll help our families the most. As I was expecting, a voice comes up on my ear, "Hi Peeta, good morning. I'm Lavinia, your producer."

"Hi Lavinia, Katniss told me about you."

"You two are making everybody in the Capitol believe in love again," her voice is friendly, and she doesn't have that affected Capitol accent like Effie does. I wonder if the producers practice a generic accent so the tributes can relate to them.

"We never thought people would be so interest in us, we're just an ordinary couple," I say.

"Now that's not true, you volunteered for the Hunger Games to be with Katniss. That's definitely not ordinary. You must love her a lot," she says.

"I do, she's the best thing in my life."

"True love. That's a rare thing to find," she says, there's a sad tone on her voice. "Most people can spend years, even get married to someone only to find out that it wasn't real. That's why I'm rooting for you two, that you can enjoy every last second you have together."

Lavinia leaves, telling me that she has to go meet the other producers at the gymnasium. After I get dressed, I make my way to the dining room where the Avoxes serve breakfast. I'm the last one there, but no one seems to mind. Katniss and Effie eat in silence and without lifting their heads of their plates. I'm trying to figure out what's going on when I look at Haymitch and need to control myself not to gasp.

He looks horrible, his face is pale, his clothes are drenched in sweat, and he looks like hasn't slept in days. Thinking about it, I don't think I saw him have a drink once since that time on the train, that's by far the longest I have seen him sober. Is he trying to go through this games without drinking?

"Are you going to spend the whole morning standing there, boy?" he says, his voice is raspy and tired. I decide not to comment on it. I sit on the empty chair beside Katniss and fill my plate with scrambled eggs and sausages.

It's almost ten, Haymitch pushes his plate of barely touched food aside. "Alright, so far you two are stealing the media's attention, which is great. But our real advantage is that the other tributes think you're just a pair of dumb kids in love. No one knows that you can fight, so keep that for yourselves until your private sessions the day after tomorrow."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Katniss says, "we weren't planning on showing off anyway."

"Just try to remember that after spending three hours in a room with the careers," Haymitch chuckles.

"They're that bad?" I ask.

"Yes, the Careers can get horribly arrogant, but keep in mind that they're just children, like you," Effie says. Behind all of her makeup she carries a tired expression on her eyes, maybe I misjudged her all those years she worked as the escort. Maybe the children that died took a toll on her too. But, if they do, then she and Haymitch deal with it in completely different ways. "Now we should be going to the elevator, you don't want to be late on your big, big, big day!"

The training room is located below ground level. The elevator's doors open and I'm overwhelmed by the size of the gymnasium. The guys on my wrestling team would never believe this. Back at our school, the gym is a makeshift court that doubles as anything we want to play, which is mostly basketball and wrestling because we don't have any equipment. But this is a whole other level.

The gymnasium is filled with obstacle courses, stations to train with several different weapons, to do hand-to-hand combat and to learn survival skills. Above us, there's a balcony with around fifteen men and women sitting down watching us. "I think those are the producers," I say to Katniss.

"I wonder with one is Lavinia," she responds.

It's not ten yet, so the elevators are coming up and down with tributes. A young woman, maybe in her twenties calls us to form a circle around a small stage. Her haircut is one of the oddest I've seen so far in the Capitol. Half of her head is shaved, and that part is covered in tattoos of green vines.

"Hi everybody, good morning," she says when the tributes gather around the stage. We're a tense group, some of the younger kids have swollen eyes from crying and a hopeless look on their faces. She looks at them, and gives a sympathetic nod before continuing, "I'm Cressida Troilus, and my team and I will film you guys while you're training."

Two men come forward and stand by her side. "This is my assistant Messalla," she points to a slim young man with a shaved head and several sets of earrings, he gives us an embarrassed wave. "And this is Castor, the best cameraman in Panem. Say hello, Castor."

"Hello, Castor." He says this in such a serious tone and in a deep voice that makes us chuckle. He's a burly man with sandy hair, and a red beard, he has the same camera that covers his body like insect shells that I saw back on 12.

"Most of the time we'll film you from a distance, so you won't even notice us, but a couple of times we'll have to ask you to do something for us like throw a spear a certain way or ask you a few questions," she says.

We were expecting something like that to happen. The week before the actual games, they show footage of the tributes training to make people excited, and in the arena, they show sound clips of the interviews with the tributes to enhance the drama. This is our chance to bring more sponsors to our side. Maybe with a little extra help, some food, or the right weapon, we can get far on the games, and Katniss can go home.

Cressida leaves the stage, and a tall, athletic woman stands in her place. After getting an approval signal from Cressida who looks at her from a small screen on her hand, she starts to explain the training schedule. There are four compulsory exercises, and the rest is up to us to decide if we want to learn it, or not. Engaging in any combative exercise with another tribute is forbidden, but I don't think there are any repercussions for that. While she lists the available stations, I notice the tribute from District 2, Cato Thrasea staring at us.

He's sizing us up. Katniss and I gained a lot of media attention since we volunteered, attention that would've gone to Cato because he's the son on another victor. He's at least a foot taller than me, and a lot heavier. But I'm here to do whatever it takes to make sure Katniss goes home, and some psycho from District 2 isn't going to stop me. He notices me staring back at him and gives me a condescending smile.

The trainer releases us and Katniss pulls me for the knot-tying station, the farthest from the careers as possible. "Are you trying to start a fight?" she says, in a low voice.

"I don't like the way he was staring."

We both look back, Cato is on the weapon's station practicing with a sword. The way he moves makes the sword look like an extension of his arm. "I don't like it either, but remember what Haymitch said?" she asks.

"Yeah, I know," I say, feeling embarrassed for not keeping my head on the strategy like I'm supposed to. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she says, as she leans in and wraps her arms around me, making my tension go away. "Don't forget that you're the nice one of this relationship."

The trainer at the knot-tying station greets us with a broad smile. I guess there isn't a massive search for this type of lessons in the Hunger Games. As soon as he realizes that Katniss knows how to make snares, he teaches us one called spring spear trap, that, according to him, can seriously injure a person's legs. We work on that for almost an hour until both of us mastered. It's a lot harder than I thought, how Katniss and Gale manage to feed their families every day with things like this amazes me.

The next station is for first aid, Haymitch told us to go there as soon as possible because it tends to get crowded. The little girl from 11 is there. I think her name is Rue. She's twelve, but she looks about ten-years-old. She has big, bright, dark, eyes and satiny brown skin. Katniss decides to ignore her, but every once in a while I catch her looking at Rue.

The trainer shows us how to make simple bandages and how to immobilize broken arms and legs. Then she teaches us about medicinal plants that we can use, most of them we already know because Katniss gets them in the woods for her mother, and I spent several hours drawing them on the family's plant book. But Rue seems to have some difficulty memorizing some of them.

"I know more about plants that you can eat," she says embarrassed.

"You only really need to know three," Katniss says. She sits on the floor with Rue holding three branches of common plants that could help out in different situations and starts to explain about them in great detail.

"Playing mommy and daddy, 12?" Marvel, the career from District 1 shouts at us from the weapons station. He doesn't wait for my response, instead, he goes back to throw spears laughing at his own joke.

The careers are showing off to scare us. There's a clear entitlement in them, as if the other districts are here just to warm them up before the real game starts. Cressida and the film crew also seem to pay most attention to them, that only seem to bust their egos even more.

Lunchtime comes, and we are commanded to go eat in a dining room outside the gymnasium. Food is arranged on carts around the room, and you have to serve yourself before sitting on a table. The careers sit together, grabbing more tables than they need, which forces some kids to sit on the floor. They laugh and talk loud about the other tributes lack of skill during the training. Kids that never had a proper meal in their lives, that are too young or too small to pose a threat to them.

"Tell me something pleasant, before I steal a bow and six arrows," Katniss whispers in my ear.

I scan the room trying to find something that isn't depressing, but that's not an easy task. The food is terrible, most tributes sit alone, with an empty look in their eyes and the inevitable fact that most of this kids will be dead in less than two weeks weights on us like a ton of bricks. But, way across the room, I see Cressida sitting on the floor with the small, red-headed boy from District 5.

"What is she doing?" I say, and Katniss looks at the same direction. The camera crew is filming the Career's table, and Cressida doesn't seem to pay any attention to them. We can't hear what they're saying, but she seems to do most of the talking, while he nods meekly. She gets up and grabs a bowl of what I think are peanuts from the food cart and sits again in front of him.

She takes a peanut, throws it in the air and catches with her mouth. She then puts a handful of peanuts on the boy's hand and encourages him to try it. He throws one, and it lands on his shaggy hair, making him laugh. They keep on until he manages to catch one. She claps her hands for him, and he bows down theatrically. I know it's her job to do these things, so people from the Capitol believe that the Districts are glad to be here, but I can't help to think that maybe there's some kindness on her too.

On the second day, I'm exhausted. Katniss and I spent most of the night going over the deals Effie set up for us. We're planning on signing the ones that'll give our families royalties. Effie explained to us that this way even Prim and my brothers' grandchildren will get monthly checks from the sales.

We decide to start with the camouflage station, something I was dying to try. The instructor shows us how to combine mud, clay and berry juices to make a paste that covers your skin. I add some texture to make my arm to look like the bark of a tree with sunlight coming from the leaves, like the ones on the woods around District 12.

Sneaking out of school to go to the woods with Katniss is one of my favourite things to do. In the summer we would swim on the lake and lay on the grass watching the clouds form familiar shapes. In the fall we would stay inside the old cabin, light up the fireplace, snuggle together and talk for hours. I'm lost on the work and the memories when I notice Katniss hasn't done a single thing.

"You're going to just watch me this whole time?"

"I like watching you. You get so intense. It's like you forget there are people around you," she says.

"You should try it."

"This is more your area, Peeta," she says, backing away.

"I can't believe it, Katniss Everdeen, doesn't want to get her pretty hands dirty?" I say with a smile because that's the absolute truth. Ever since the prep team did her nails, she keeps staring at them when she thinks I'm not looking. "You're such a girl!"

"Shut up," she says, her face turning red.

I'm having a laughing fit when she grabs a handful of mud and smears all over my cheek and hair. She starts to laugh at me, and I want to act mad, but I'm madder at myself for not thinking of this first. I grab another bowl of mud, but she already has one in her hand. "I'm so going to get you."

"I want to see you try," she says with a smirk.

Less than a minute later our clothes, hairs and faces are smeared with mud, Katniss and I are breathless from laughing. The station is a mess, but the instructor doesn't seem to mind since he's laughing too.

"Is this a bad time to ask you a few questions?" Cressida and her crew stand outside the station, all three of them seem to be suppressing their smiles.

"Not at all," I say. We drop the bowls on the table, and the five of us sit on the floor, Katniss and I on one side, Cressida and her crew on the other.

"How long have you been together?" Cressida asks.

"Since we were twelve." Katniss answers. The camera crew looks surprised. Most people are when they find out.

"Yeah, we were pretty young, but when you know, you know," I say, putting my arms around Katniss. Out of the corners of my eyes, I notice across the gymnasium, Cato staring at us again.

"Hold on, I need to change the battery," Castor says, removing the back part of the camera. "Sorry about that."

Cressida lets out a disappointed sigh. "So, that's a cool paint job," she says, pointing at the part of the camouflage that wasn't smeared on the mud fight.

"Thanks, I like to draw, so I guess this came naturally for me."

"It must be hard to find art supplies on 12, I heard is hard to even buy coal there," Messalla says, that awards him with an angry stare from Cressida.

"We learn to make the most of what we have on 12." Are these guys trying to get us into trouble?

"Sorry about Messalla, we just spent three weeks on District 11, shooting second unit for a movie, and now he's having re-adapting issues," Cressida says.

"How was it?" Katniss asks. We don't get to learn a lot about the other districts in our school, just things like the process of mining coal. The only thing I know about 11 is that they produce all the food the Capitol and the richer districts consume.

Cressida looks at a distance, at Rue shooting a slingshot at the weapon station, she looks even smaller around the careers. "11 was something we'll never forget," she says.

"Okay, we can go on now," Castor says, back with the camera pointed at our faces.

"Alright," Cressida sits up straight and continues, "so who you two met?"

The day is almost over, and I'm ready to go back to go back to our floor and get out of this clothes, maybe I can convince Katniss to shower with me again. Just thinking about that night after the Chariot Ride makes me grin like an idiot.

"Going back upstairs to fuck your girl again, 12?" Cato's voice echoes in the gymnasium.

Katniss holds my hand tight and keeps walking toward the elevator. "Let's just go," she says.

Haymitch was right, the careers have a way to get under your skin. Still, I don't want to mess with our strategy and start a fight. So I content myself on keep walking and not bothering to look back. He deals with that by throwing a 200-pound metal ball that passes over our heads and lands right in front of us.

"That caught your attention now, 12?" he and the other careers start to laugh.

"Yeah, it helped me to figure you out Cato." I can't help myself so I say it. "You're scared."

"What?" he starts to laugh again, in an even more condescending and arrogant way than before. "Me? Scared of a body count district? Mark my words 12, when we get to the arena I'm going to hunt you down, kill you and have my way with your girl right in the middle of the-" Katniss grabs one of the knives at a table next to her and throws it at Cato. The knife hits the dummy right behind him, that falls on the ground making a loud noise amplified by the fact that the whole room is staring at us, in dead silence.

"You talk too much. Did you knew that?" she says, "come on, Peeta."

We enter the elevator, before the door closes I can see Cato staring at us, his eyes full of anger, and Cressida with the film crew behind him, all smiling from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think about the 'cameo'? I always thought that it was kinda weird that after the Chariot Ride, the next time the tributes appear on tv was on the interview, that's almost four days, which I think is a lot considering that the Hunger Games is the biggest event in the country. 
> 
> BTW, speaking in the Hunger Games, the countdown for the 74th Hunger Games has officially started! Only two more chapters to go and you get to find out the new arena! I think you'll like it, but Katniss surely won't!


	9. Seneca Crane

The producers and I hate the Private Training Session. There’s absolutely no point in it. More often than not these tributes don’t show anything that we haven’t seen on the two days of training, or their instructors didn’t tell us on their briefings. We can’t even broadcast it since it’s against the rules. The tradition is the only reason why we do it. 

 

Each tribute gets fifteen minutes to perform whatever they think it will help them on the arena. What they don’t know is that rarely ever something they do here ends up influencing their training scores, we already set them during training. This whole event functions solely to give them, and the mentors an illusion that they have some control about what is happening. 

 

The male tribute from District 1 enters the gymnasium without bothering to introduce himself. He probably thinks he doesn’t need to. That because he’s from a career District he is automatically a favourite. His picture under the ‘body count’ category begs to differ. 

 

“What do you think?” I ask Plutarch, who sits on the chair beside mine, “Day 6?”

 

“His producer thinks it’ll be around day 8. My money is that the kid from 11 will do it,” Plutarch retorts. He’s not allowed to actually bet on it, for obvious reasons. We can only bet among ourselves, and for bragging rights. The only real money we make, aside from our salaries, is the bonus if we complete our storylines, or if one of our tributes becomes a victor.  

 

After the female from 1 exists the gymnasium, we get a short break until the cleaning crew replaces the spears and change the targets for new ones. Those breaks are a lifesaver for us. The worst part of having to work closely with the tributes is that they need to believe that we truly care about them. Having a tribute walk in and finding us acting as we do on the producers’ room would shatter that image in a second. So we take times like these to gather our sanity back, before going back to our places and give the tributes our undivided attention.

 

District 2 is next, as soon as Cato enters the room, Plutarch shouts his name, clapping his hands in encouragement. He seems to recognize him and shouts Plutarch’s name back, smiling broadly.  

 

“Seems like your tribute is following perfectly in line,” I say.  He starts his routine, fighting four instructors with a sparring sword, and taking them down easily. 

 

“The girl is a complete wild card, but him,” Plutarch shouts even more words of encouragement, “I can play him like a fiddle.”

 

Even though Cato is far from the balcony, I try to make my laugh discreet so he can’t notice. “I’m glad you’re not upset about not getting 12.”

 

“A career with parental issues isn’t exactly a challenge, Seneca.” Plutarch looks at Lavinia, who is on the other side of balcony talking with a few producers. “But I have to admit, she managed to sink to a level I would never be capable of.” 

 

“She’s just using doctored footage, Plutarch. It’s not that big of a deal.” Cato ends his session, and the other career from District 2 enters the room. She goes straight to the knives. “Besides, isn’t she enough challenge?”

 

Plutarch rolls his eyes and sighs. “I tried to start a conversation with this girl several times. She ignored me on every single one of them. We can’t have her as a victor.”

 

I worked with Plutarch for over thirteen years now, I’ve never seen him discard one of his own tributes as a victor. Even when Johanna Mason was playing her weak little girl act, he stood by her, giving her and her district partner the same amount of attention. “Alright, if you say so, then she’s off the list.”

 

“She needs to be,” he says. 

 

The tributes come and go, each one more boring than the other. Even though we get a longer break for lunch, it isn’t enough to lift our spirits for the rest of the day. We’re not allowed to drink, but there are no rules against taking pills, so take my third amphet pill with lunch. They have the exact opposite effect of morphling, instead of the drowsiness you get incredibly alert and focused, which is perfect for boring tasks like this one. The only downside is that they make sitting still an absolute challenge.

 

“Only more six districts to go!” Lavinia screams, and we all cheer. The effects of the pills are definitely kicking in, and we’re starting to feel like we could go fight in the arena ourselves.

 

“Okay Seneca, here’s my problem with using doctored footage.” Plutarch sits by my side while the female from 11 is doing her routine. He’s grinding his teeth, another side effect of the amphet pills. “It’s cheating. I know it not necessary against the rules, but Lavinia should talk the tributes into following the plot, like all of us do.”

 

“She’s just using a new approach. You saw those two. They don’t leave each other side for more than two seconds. She could never put them on the breaking point in three days.”  

 

“I could,” Plutarch says. So this is why he’s so interested in Lavinia’s plan. 

 

“I did you a favour, Plutarch.” I low my voice to almost a whisper, you never know who might be listening. “I don’t know what you have being up to, but President Snow has you under his radar, and I don’t think is because of your little affair with Finnick Odair.”

 

Plutarch’s lips turn into a thin line. Any relationship between producers and mentors are strictly forbidden regardless if it's mutual or paid for. However, there are always rumours. Plutarch and Finnick Odair meeting on shady motels in the middle of the night is one of them. And by the look of him, I just confirm it.

 

“Just drop it, Plutarch, Lavinia is doing a great job. And, if everything goes accordingly with her plan, we may even have the first sex scene inside the arena. Our ratings will go through the roof!” 

 

Something groundbreaking like that would put me on history as one of the best gamemakers the Hunger Games has ever had. That would secure my, and my producers’ position for years, if not decades, but Plutarch doesn’t seem to agree with me on that. I thought he would be ecstatic about it, but he looks at me disgusted.

 

“They’re sixteen, Seneca,” he says. 

 

“So what? They’re already doing it, might as well put it on camera.”

 

“So if it was Minerva in the arena, would you be okay with that?” Now that was a low blow. Minerva is my only daughter, she just turned fifteen last month. Her mother and I had a messy divorce, and I don’t see her as much as I should. Plutarch knows that. “We need to draw the line somewhere, Seneca.”

 

Plutarch doesn’t let me answer, he gets up and walks away downing his ice tea before getting another glass. I take another amphet.

 

“Hi, I’m Peeta Mellark, from District 12.” Finally the only District I was curious about shows up. 

 

After the little confrontation yesterday, I started to think that maybe the volunteers had more to offer than just teenage romance. After a quick talk with the trainers, three of our biggest instructors surround him. 

 

Turns out I was right, this boy can fight. The height and weight disparity don’t make any difference for him. In fact, he uses it as an advantage. Soon he’s the only one standing. Lavinia shrugs at the inquiring look I give to her. “He did place second at his school’s wrestling tournament. He said that his coach had to put him with the older boys because placing him with the ones on his age and weight would be unfair to them.”

 

He leaves, and the girl from 12 enters the room, she goes right to the archery station. “Can’t wait to see if the prep team left some hair on her.” The producer from District 7 says that. He’s old enough to be her grandfather. I can’t help to picture him making those comments about Minerva. This makes my insides turn. 

 

Maybe I took too much amphet, and I’m getting caught up on things that should not matter, but I can’t let go of what Plutarch said. I’m not naive. I know exactly what the Hunger Games are, and why they exist. But it’s not my fault that ages ago the Districts decided to bite the hand that fed them. The girl shoots once, and the arrow misses the target. “Better low that eight we gave to her,” Lavinia says, making some producers chuckle. I decide that I can’t take this any longer. 

 

“She’s not Minerva,” I say to Plutarch, who stands by the craft table getting more ice tea. My voice is louder than it should, and I can feel the other producers eyes on us, but I’m too hyped up to control it. “She’s just a tribute! And nothing more than that. So don’t you come to me claiming some moral high ground when you had no problem when we killed that cannibal freak of yours years ago!”

 

“His name was Titus!” Plutarch retorts, his voice is low and angry, I know I hit a nerve by mentioning one his greatest fails. The cannibal was the only tribute we ever had to kill in the arena, a complete breach of game rules that costed Augustus Lars his job as Gamemaker and almost got Plutarch arrested. “He was fourteen, he was a person, and at least I have the guts to admit that, unlike you.”

 

“Watch out!” someone screams. An arrow flies into the balcony breaking the glass out of Plutarch’s hand and hitting the wall behind us. Plutarch and I jump back shocked. The girl from 12 stands glaring at me. Our eyes met, and for the first time, I really see her.  Her grey eyes full of anger and hurt, so much like Minerva’s, when I left her mother last year, and I feel the same guilt and shame I felt that day. 

 

“Thank you for your consideration,” Katniss says. She makes a slight bow and leaves the room throwing the bow and the quiver on the floor. The metal sound echoes in the empty gymnasium after she enters the elevator and leaves without being dismissed. 

 

“No one was looking at her presentation?” No one answers, no one needs to, everybody was paying attention to my meltdown instead of Katniss’ presentation. 

 

“Well, I guess we can add ‘archery and anger’ to her list of attributes.” Lavinia points to the targets at the archery station. Aside from the one she missed, she hit the bullseye on five targets, one of the lamps, and the rope that holds one the sandbags on the boxing station. Definitely, something I wasn’t expecting.

 

“How the hell someone who isn’t a career gets so good at archery?” One of the producers asks, looking at the arrow on the wall. 

 

“Not in any legal way,” Lavinia says, she turns to me with a worried look on her face, “this is a serious problem for the storyline.” 

 

“Only if she gets the bow, there’s no guarantee of that,” Plutarch says.

 

“You really want to take that chance?” Lavinia says. She’s right, Katniss is a remarkable archer, if she gets the bow, it would end the game.

 

“Cato can take her. Besides, you have to admit, that was the most impressive thing we ever saw in a Private Training Session,” Plutarch says.

 

I’m divided. During training, Katniss proved to be highly skilled in survival techniques. But, aside of knife throwing, she failed in almost all categories involving fighting. The bow would be her only chance of defending herself, but it'll make her chances of becoming a victor astronomically high. She's not supposed to win. Still, my blood runs cold when I remember Cato saying he'll rape her in the arena. Maybe Plutarch was right. We do need to draw the line somewhere. 

 

“We’ll leave the bow and quiver in the arena,” I say, Lavinia opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her before she can say anything. “That’s final, Lavinia.”

 

Later that night, when Caesar Flickerman announces the training scores, I’m shocked to find out that the results aren’t the ones we sent to his team. During training, we decided that all the careers will get scores between 11, for the ones that are possible victors, and 10 for the ones we think are "body count", while Katniss and Peeta would get a 7 and an 8, respectively. However, Caesar just put a target on their backs by giving them both scores of 11 and by giving the careers scores that range from 10, for Glimmer, all the way down to 8, for Cato. 

 

I immediately call Asterion Minos, he’s one of President Snow’s assistants. He’s a lap dog from District 2 that got lucky, but if someone would know what’s going on it would be him.

 

“Mr. Crane, what a pleasure. I presume you watched the scoring announcement?” he says in a fake Capitol accent.

 

“Yes Asterion, and I’m very curious about the changes.”

 

“After District 12’s demonstration, President Snow decided the scores needed to be updated.” _So they were watching._

 

“And why I wasn’t informed of this?”

 

“Oh, Mr. Crane, do you truly believe that would've made any difference?”  I can sense Asterion smiling over the phone. He’s enjoying every second of this. “And, one more thing, Mr. Crane. The bow and arrows were removed from the arena. President Snow decided that you're allowed to replace them with any other weapon of your choosing.”

Asteron hangs up, and I want to throw the phone on the wall, but I place it on the coffee table instead. President Snow's warning was loud and clear. As much as it sickens me to think of what probably will happen to Katniss in the arena, there’s nothing I can do, I'm not going to risk my job over some girl from an outline District. 

Friday is a day of preparation for us and the for tributes. Since most of them aren’t camera ready, they spend the day practicing manners with the escorts and interview skills with their mentors. We, on the other hand, have to prepare the questions Caesar will ask, making sure the storyline follows through. 

 

Working with Caesar is always fun. He and his entourage invade the producers’ room cracking jokes, doing impressions and singing songs from back when Caesar was a theatre actor. After three days locked up in that balcony, that’s exactly what we need to recharge our energies before the game starts. The day goes by in a blur. We hit point after point without any problems. That until we reach District 12.

 

“So my plan is quite simple,” Lavinia starts, “instead of two, three minutes interviews, we’re going to do one four-minute interview with both of them. We’ll start with easy questions ‘what they like to do together?’, or ‘how they find the Capitol?’. Them, right at the end of the interview, Caesar hits them with the Gale thing. We don’t give them space to maneuver and finish the interview in a cliffhanger.”

 

Lavinia sits back proud with herself, but Caesar isn’t impressed. “They’re the ‘star-crossed lovers of District 12’, the biggest love story the Hunger Games has ever had. They’re literally willing to die for each other! Nobody is going to believe the girl is banging some other guy on the side,” he scoffs at her, but Lavinia doesn’t seem to mind that.

 

“Nobody needs to believe that. For this story to work only one person needs to take this seriously, and that’s Peeta Mellark. You do your job Caesar, and I’ll do mine.” 

 

Caesar shivers theatrically dissipating the tension Lavinia set in the room. “Remind me never get on your bad side!”

 

On the day of the interview, we spend most of the time on the producers’ room packing and talking with the tributes. The arena this year will be on the outskirts of District 3, and we need to be there tomorrow at dawn to meet with the team that builds the arenas and set up the producers’ stations. 

 

“I just wanted to wish you good luck on your interview today, Katniss.” Lavinia takes an awkward pause, taking deep breaths to make herself calm. “Yes, I’m sure you’re busy, I’ll talk with you later.”

 

Lavinia throws her headset on the table, breathing heavily with anger. “All the trust I managed to built with this bitch is gone.” 

 

“She’s still not engaging?” I ask.

 

“She’s not exactly the forgiving type,” she says tearing a handful of files apart, before throwing them on the garbage. “At least the boy isn’t a lost cause. He’s too polite to shut me down.” 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“We’ll find out that tonight after the interviews,” she says, with a sly smile forming on the corner of her lips.

 

The interviews are about to start, so we drop everything to watch them. Lavinia quickly tests the cameras on District 12’s floor, and the control systems while the place is empty. It’s almost showtime, and I’m getting nervous. Something tells me that regardless of the results, I’ll not be happy about them.

 

Caesar opens with few jokes to warm up the audience, but soon calls the girl tribute from District 1. She practically floats to the stage in a see-through golden gown. Cashmere definitely isn’t playing around this year. Her interview lasts three minutes, and she’s sent to sit on the assigned chair on the back of the stage. 

 

The three minutes must feel like an eternity for the tributes, but it goes in a flash for us. Cato does a lot better than I expected, he’s cocky, smart and incredibly charming. Which I can not say about his district partner. She barely says two words, but she looks like she’s ready to kill. At least that will grant her some sponsors. The fox-face girl from 5 doesn’t do so bad for herself either, she’s sly and witty, and the red-headed boy from her district is funny and clever. Overall those were some good interviews, but the actual game only starts with the last district.

 

Katniss and Peeta enter the stage holding hands. The crowd goes wild at the sight of the two of them together. Caesar playfully asks the audience to be quiet before he starts the interview. 

 

“So, Katniss and Peeta, every single person in Panem is dying to get to know you two, what do you think about the Capitol so far?”

 

They give fake but believable smiles. Peeta seems to be the one with the talent for interviews because he leans in first. “We love it here, the people in the Capitol are great. Katniss and I are so grateful for this opportunity.”

 

"I have to say when I saw you two on the Chariot Ride my heart just stopped. The whole concept, the flames, the kiss! Oh, it was magnificent!"

 

“It was all thanks to Cinna and Portia,” Katniss says. The camera pans to the stylists while the audience applauds them. They wave for the crowd and blow kisses to Katniss and Peeta, who respond with warm genuine smiles.

 

"Well, the kiss was our idea," Peeta says, with a mischievous smile.  He’s good, that takes back the audience’s attention who laughs and sighs for their young lovers. They're on the palm of Peeta’s hands, for now. 

 

“Oh, I bet you can’t keep your hands off her!” gushes Caesar, overly excited. 

 

Peeta wraps his arms around  Katniss waist. She gives him a shy smile while visibly blushing. "It's really hard when I have to," he says, looking at her.

 

"So is it difficult when you have to share Katniss' company with Gale?" 

 

Caesar’s words fall like a bomb and have the exact effect we expected. Peeta is a good speaker, but he lost the control he had over the interview as the audience gasps and starts to murmurs among themselves. 

 

"What are you talking about?" Katniss asks. The blushing, the shy smiles are all gone. 

 

"Oh, let's just say a little bird told me about your very modern arrangement with a handsome lad name Gale Hawthorne. Now Peeta, you and Gale are also a thing, or his just him and Katniss?"

 

"Listen-" Katniss' aggressive tone is quickly cut by Peeta, who gives a loud seemingly genuine heartfelt laugh. 

 

"Wait, do you mean Katniss’ cousin?" he says, as he laughs the audience starts to feel comfortable again, lifting the tension Caesar’s statement caused. "Look, 12 may be a little backward, Caesar, especially comparing to the Capitol, but we don't date our  cousins!" 

 

“Could you imagine that?” Katniss adds. They’re both laughing now and getting a big positive response from the audience. 

 

"Caesar is going to be pissed, we made him look like an idiot," Plutarch says.

 

"Please, we're all someone's pawns," Lavinia says. 

 

The four minutes are up. Caesar wishes Katniss and Peeta good luck and sends them to their sits. They are still holding hands, but during the anthem, and Caesar’s goodbyes to the audience, he doesn’t look at her. Lavinia's plan is working.

 

The hours after the interview are orchestrated meticulously, this is the first real nail in the coffin of their relationship. After the interview is over the tributes usually go back to their floors, but we had some photographers staged near the elevators to get extra pictures of some tributes and their mentors, Katniss and Haymitch among them. 

 

"It will probably just take a couple of minutes, why don't you stay?" Katniss asks. She has a worried look on her face.  

 

"That's okay, I just need some time alone. I'll see you back at our floor," he says, kissing her on the cheek and leaving.

 

"Yes!" Lavinia yells, "oh Peeta boy, you just made the mistake of your life!"

 

Peeta rides the elevator with Effie. She tries to start a conversation with him but he stands looking at his own feet. Separating Peeta from Haymitch is as important as separating him from Katniss. Haymitch may be a drunk, but he probably already knows we're up to something and could talk some sense on Peeta's confused head, which is the last thing we need right now.

 

"Peeta, don't you a least want some dinner?" Effie asks.

 

"I'm not hungry," he answers, leaving Effie alone at the dining room.

 

Peeta stops in the corridor between two doors, one is the room he has been sharing with Katniss, which we closed, and the other is the room assigned to the male tribute from his district. We left that door open, with soft light giving it a warm inviting feeling. It’s subtle but highly effective. Every tribute falls for that, and Peeta is no different.  

 

Peeta sits on the bed letting out a heavy sigh, his eyes full of tears. 

 

“Peeta, are you okay?” Lavinia asks, in a warm maternal tone.

 

“Yeah, I just need a minute.”

 

“I’m sure this must be hard for you, Caesar had no business talking about your personal life like that, but you did save that interview. That lie about Katniss and Gale being cousins was brilliant Peeta.”  

 

“How do you know it was a lie?”

 

“We have to do a background search on the tributes. It’s not perfect, so I did had my doubts about them, but after I saw the tape, I knew they couldn’t possibly be cousins.” Lavinia lays back on her chair and winks at me.

 

“What tape?”

 

“It’s security footage from the cameras on the low-income sector of your district. We only got it yesterday. I was honestly debating with myself if I should tell you about that or not.” 

 

This is the most decisive point of the plan, Peeta has to ask for the tape, this won’t work if he doesn’t want to see it. We all watch him in the several screens at the producers’ room battling with a myriad of conflicting emotions. I catch myself realizing, that I don’t want him to ask for the tape.

 

“Can you show it to me?” he unfortunately says.

 

“I can, but Peeta are you sure you want to see it?”

 

“Yes, I do.” 

 

A projected image of Katniss and Gale appears on the wall. They’re alone in an alley sharing a long kiss, Gale has his hand up her shirt, while Katniss grabs his hair. It looks very realistic with the time, and budget we had, the security camera effect disguises the 3d rendering on the face of the actors.

 

“No. T-that can’t be real,” Peeta mumbles, his face in shock. “I’m sure Katniss has an explanation for this. She has to have one. I’m just going to talk with her, and she’ll tell me what happened.”

 

He tries to open the door, but we locked it as soon as he entered the room. He keeps forcing it, but it’s impossible to open it.

 

“I’m sorry Peeta but today is the final night before the games, all doors are locked. Haymitch didn’t tell you about that?” Lavinia says, suppressing a smile.

 

“Can’t you make an exception? Just once?” Peeta begs, his voice is cracking, and his face is turning red as he tries to fight the tears.

 

“If I could you know I would, but I have no control over that,” she says.  

 

Peeta slumps on the floor, leaning in against the door sobbing. He covers his face, but we can see the tears drenching his shirt. 

 

“And that’s how is done, bitches!” Lavinia rises from her chair triumphantly. The other producers clap and make theatrical bows to her.   

 

The rest of the night goes uneventful, one by one the producers finish their work and go back to their rooms to get some sleep before we leave tomorrow. I stay behind under the pretext of making last minute adjustments to the storyline, but as soon as I’m left alone, I turn the cameras back to District 12’s apartment.   

 

Peeta seems to have fallen asleep. He’s still on the floor by the door. I change the live feed to Katniss’ room, but she isn’t there. I change to the living room, the dining room, even the rooftop but she isn’t in any of them either. I finally find her on the corridor, sleeping on the floor leaning in against Peeta’s door.

 

I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. Haymitch stops in front of Katniss, he looks uncomfortable, but he takes her in his arms to her own bed.

 

“Haymitch, what happened?” Katniss asks, her voice is raspy from crying.

 

“They played a dirty trick on you two, but it’s nothing that you and the boy can’t fix,” he says.    

 

“How? Tomorrow they’ll throw us into the arena.”

 

“And while you’re there stay together, and stay alive.”

 

Haymitch makes a motion to leave, but Katniss holds his hand. “Thanks, Haymitch, for, you know, trying.”

 

He smiles, and plants a kiss on Katniss forehead. “Don’t mention it, kid. I’m just doing my job.”

 

That for some reason draws a chuckle out of her. He leaves the room, and I watch her go to sleep hugging the pillow Peeta used. This girl is going to suffer so much on the next days. She’s going to die, and most likely will be violent and by the hands of the boy she loves. I caused this, and there’s nothing I can do about it. No, actually there’s at least one thing I can do. I can make sure that if Cato follows through with his threat, he'll not leave that arena alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I'm so sorry for the delay, life caught up with me, and I couldn't finish this massive chapter (is the longest so far). But the great news is the next chapter is almost done! So next Sunday we'll go back to District 12 and see what Gale has been up to, and how he's dealing with being throw inside this drama.


	10. Gale Hawthorne

The wood floor is cold and cracks when I step on it. My brother Vick is asleep on the bed next to mine, so I’m careful not to wake him up. Even though the Hunger Games start today, it’s still Sunday, and now I have two families to provide for. Katniss and I had an agreement that if one of us dies the other would look after their family. And I plan to honour that agreement for as long as I can.

I check the light in the bathroom to see if the power is still out. It was out all day yesterday and will probably be out today too. Electricity on 12 was always something we couldn’t count on, but every year on the days before the games only the Seam runs out of power. We think is a way for the Capitol to force us to go to the main square and watch the games there. This way they can film it and show that the people from the districts also want to see their kids fight to the death. At least that’s my theory.

The water is freezing, and it makes my face hurt when I wash it, but it helps me to wake up. Even though is dark, I’m so used to by now that I get dressed without needing to light any candle. I’m about to head outside when Rory, who I thought was sleeping, calls me from the living room.

“Hey, Gale,” he says in a low voice, being careful not to wake our mother and sister who sleep in the only other room of the house.

“Hey, Rory. What are you doing up? Go back to sleep.”

“Just give a second, and I’ll go hunt with you,” he says getting up from the couch. Katniss and I have been teaching Rory how to hunt for a few weeks now. He’s good at it, picks up things fast, and just yesterday shot his first squirrel. I wish Katniss was there to see it. She would have been so proud of him. 

“No Rory, stay today. I need some time alone.” 

Rory is only twelve, but he looks older. He’s big for his age, and I think that maybe he’s going to be taller than me. Is on moments where he has to deal with his emotions that he shows how young he really is. “I miss her too. She was a good friend,” he finally says, after struggling to find the words. 

“They both were,” I say, then leave, wishing that the weight on my chest would go away.

I make my way through the narrow alleys of the Seam making sure to avoid the Peacekeepers. Most of them know that I hunt and even buy my game, but it still is better to be careful, if the wrong peacekeeper sees me I won’t have any money to bribe my way out of this.

There are several weak spots on the fence that people who hunt use to get to the woods, I usually use the one closest to my house. As soon as I get close I can tell something is wrong. Someone is leaning against a house waiting. It could be a peacekeeper, but they usually keep their helmets on, and this person definitely has long hair. I walk slowly, heart beating on my ears, fists firmly closed. The figure starts to become familiar as I approach it, but I can’t believe is her until she calls my name.

“Hey, Gale,” Madge says.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I thought you were a mugger!” I say, trying to keep my voice low.

“Oh, come on, there are no muggers on 12.” 

“Not if you’re a townie, there's plenty for the hunters.” Madge looks at me in disbelief. Most townies don’t know about this things. They think because theft is a severely punishable crime on 12 no one would dare to commit it. But that rule doesn’t apply for hunters or anyone that trades or sells illegal things. “Look, is not exactly like we can call the peacekeepers for help, can’t we?”

“I had no idea,” Madge says, her mind seems to go back to the past, rethinking something. “So that time Katniss went to school with a black eye?”

“We got jumped by three guys.” 

I remember that day. It was a cold and rainy Sunday, Katniss and I have being hunting together for a little more than two months by then. We managed to catch some wild turkeys, it was our biggest catch so far so we were pretty happy about it. We made four blocks into the Seam when they showed up, demanding the birds. We refused and one of the guys punched me starting a fight. People from the nearby houses came out to help us, but the guys escaped with the turkeys. We end up at Katniss’ living room with Prim stiching my forehead, under Mrs Everdeen’s guidance, and Katniss on the couch with Peeta putting a coat of ice on her face.

“She told me she felt on the woods,” Madge says. There are probably dozens of things Katniss never told her about it. Which is for the best, I don’t think a townie, and especially one from the Capitol would understand.

“So why you’re here?” I ask.

“I couldn’t go to sleep at all, and I went to the woods a couple of times with Katniss, but I’m scared of going alone so-” she lets the words trail off, she’s embarrassed about asking it. 

I just wanted to be alone today. I knew people who died on the games before, but they were some kid on my school and the daughter of a merchant that buys from me. Never people that I talked with, that I went to their houses, eat with, laugh with. That’s new and painful for me, and I guess is the same for her. 

“Do you want to go see the lake Peeta talked about it?”

“You know where it is?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show it to you.” I take the lead, and Magde follows close behind, a few minutes later we enter the woods.

On our way to the lake, I stop a couple times to check on the snares, and to shoot at some easy prey. It still dark but the moonlight helps if you’re used to the woods. Madge definitely isn’t. She seems to trip over every single branch and rock on her path. It’s loud, it’s scaring the game away, and it’s annoying me. 

She trips again, and this time I’m close enough to catch her. Madge is ice cold and trembling in my arms. Katniss probably only took her to the woods during the day, at night, this place is completely different. The shadows on the trees look like predators, and you jump at any unfamiliar noise. If you’re not used to, is absolutely terrifying.

“You know, I was pretty scared at the first time I entered the woods alone,” I say putting my best reassuring smile. 

“You were? I thought you were practically born with a bow in your hand.” Madge fix her shirt, recomposing herself.

“Not really, my dad showed me how to hunt with snares. It was Katniss who taught me how to shoot with the bow.” 

I remember clearly those first months after my father died. The Capitol gave my family some money, but we all knew it wasn’t going to last long. My mother was still pregnant with my sister Posy, and my brothers were too young to help with anything. I knew that if I didn’t do something, we would all starve to death. 

One morning I left my house without telling anyone. It was the middle of the winter, so I packed up with several layers of mine and my father’s clothes, but I could still feel the cold wind cut through my bones. It had snowed heavily on the previous night the forest was covered on snow, making me instantly discouraged. I hoped to at least find some roots that I could dig up, but the ground was frozen. I was about to go home, cold and with an empty stomach when I saw the tracks on the snow. Rabbit tracks. 

I pulled out my knife and start to follow it. I didn’t know how far they would go, but I knew they had to be fresh tracks, so I decided to take my chances. I don’t know how long I walked. My hunger, and will to feed my family dragged me forward until the tracks ended at a small entrance on the trunk of a tree. A rush of adrenaline went through me, and I started to dig through the snow like a mad person. The snow melted through my gloves giving me ice burns, but I did not care, I just rested when I thrust my arm into the tree and pulled out a hare.

The thing was vicious, it was kicking and biting me and only stopped when I put a knife through its throat. I felt bad for a split second, I’ve never killed an animal before that day, my dad was the one who did that, but I reasoned that it was better for that animal to die than my family. So I stuffed it on my game bag and ran back home. 

The Sun is up when Madge and I reach the lake. She calmed down a lot, and now that the woods aren’t so frightening she’s enjoying it. It’s so weird seeing the forest through someone else’s eyes. I always saw it as a source of food, and a place where I could vent my frustrations without worrying about being arrested, but Madge’s green eyes are full of wonder. She sees beauty in this place, and it makes me happy to see it through her eyes. I guess this is one of the reasons why Katniss brings Peeta here. 

“Are you going to stare at me all day?” Madge asks, and I dodge my head fast, I didn’t realize that I was staring. She has pity on me and changes the subject. “When did you found out about this place?”

“It was years ago, even before I met Katniss. I used to come here to swim and dig out roots. One day I got here and saw her swimming with Peeta, they didn’t see me. But that was the last day I came here, until now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know really, they were just swimming. I guess seeing her happy bothered me.” I never told that to anyone, and I don’t if it’s because I’m at the lake again, or if I’m starting to feel close to Madge, but I finally tell someone what I felt that day. “That was the first summer after our fathers died. I was miserable. My only goal was to survive to the next day. And when I came here and found her laughing, I thought to myself, ‘what kind of person does this? Just moves on. Like their own father’s death means nothing’. After that, I spent as many years avoiding her as I could. If Katniss wasn’t so good at hunting, I don’t think I would've ever spoken to her.”

“Gale, it wasn’t like that. I remember that winter. Katniss and I weren’t friends yet, but we were in the same class. She was never chatty, but she used to laugh and to sing. All that changed when her father died. I spent the entire winter seeing her come to school with dark circles on her eyes, losing weight, shutting herself away.” Madge stops, her eyes turn red as she fights back the tears.

“And then she met Peeta,” I complete.

“I don’t know what happened between them, but I guess he showed her that she could be happy again. Is she a bad person for wanting that?” 

Madge enters the cabin instead of waiting an answer from me, not that I have one. My friendship with Katniss started out of convenience. It was easier to survive if we worked together. I never gave much thought on why she loved and cared so much about Peeta. I just assumed it was because he’s a good guy, and insanely devoted to her. I had no idea that what they have between then could be so much deeper.

The cabin is full of Katniss and Peeta’s things. You can tell they spent a lot of time here. There are bows and broken arrows, teacups, blankets and pillows, books and the concrete walls are covered by Peeta’s drawings. I knew he could draw, but I didn’t have any idea he was that good. On the wall by the door, he drew the lake using charcoal. I’ve never been on the lake during the night, but he seemed to capture what it would look like, with the moon and the stars reflecting on the surface of the water.

“Do you think they spent the night here?” Madge asks, also wondering how Peeta could’ve known how the lake looks at moonlight.

“Probably not, have you ever met his mother?”

“Yes, she’s always nice to me,” Madge says. Of course she would be nice to the blonde, green-eyed Mayor’s daughter. “Honestly, I don't really like her. She keeps trying to set me up with Peeta. It makes me feel uncomfortable every time I have to go to the bakery.”

“That woman is horrible.”

“Yeah, she thinks I’m stupid. That I don't see right through her,” she says shaking her head. “It amazes me that Peeta came out such a good person, he definitely didn’t learn from her.” 

Even though Katniss always told me that Madge was a good person, I never believed her. I always thought no one from the Capitol could ever be good. That being born there made you automatically disgusting and vain. But I have to admit that I was wrong. People from the Capitol may be awful, but Madge is alright. 

I continue to look at Peeta’s artworks on the walls when I hear Madge closing a notebook with a swift motion. Her entire face is red, even her ears.

“Maybe don't look at Peeta’s drawing books,” she says. It doesn't take me long to figure out why.

“Okay, that’s definitely something I don’t want to see.” The comprehension of the other activities they did here makes me feel awkward and guilty. This is an intimate place that Peeta and Katniss built to be happy, and being here with Madge makes me feel like we’re desecrating it. “We should leave.”

Madge seems to agree with me because her eyes are full of sorrow. “They aren’t even dead yet, but they already fell like ghosts,” she says, walking out of the cabin.

“I wonder which one of this trees Peeta was talking about,” Madge says. When we were saying our goodbyes, Peeta asked if we could bury Katniss and him under a large oak tree on this lake, there are dozens of trees here. But one is special.

“I think is that one.” I point to the oak tree right beside the cabin. It has the initials ‘K.E. - P.M.’ engraved on it. I don’t think Peeta really thought it though when he asked me about being buried here. But I intend on keeping my promise. I just don’t know how. “Maybe we can bribe the gravedigger, or have them cremated. Madge?” 

I turn around and realize that Madge isn’t by my side anymore. She’s looking at the lake, her fair skin turning red while the tears fall from her face. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” she says. 

“Don’t be,” I say getting closer to her. “You know, the woods for me was always a place where I could say whatever I wanted, without being afraid of the wrong people hearing it. Things I could never say in 12.”

“Like ‘fuck the Capitol’?” she says, drying away her tears and starting to laugh.

“Yeah, exactly!” I turn to the lake and yell at to the top of my lungs, “FUCK THE CAPITOL!” 

Madge looks at me like I did the most rebellious thing she could possibly imagine it. And she seems to feel encouraged by it. “FUCK THE HUNGER GAMES!” she screams. 

“FUCK THE REAPINGS!” I yell. 

“AND FUCK MRS MELLARK!” and we both collapse on the grass laughing. 

We spend some time laying on the grass, watching the clouds. The weight on my chest, completely gone.

“Gale, can I ask you something?” I know her question even before she asks it. The rumours that Katniss cheats on Peeta with me probably came back at full strength after the interview last night. I hate those rumours, especially because I found out about them when Mrs. Mellark shouted loud and clear on the bakery’s kitchen, well at Peeta’s earshot. I felt like if the Earth could swallow me whole right then and there, I would let it. 

“Look, Katniss is a hunting partner and a friend, and I don’t really see her as anything but that. Maybe in some other life where she wasn't with Peeta, I could possibly consider that since we work great together. So, no, nothing ever happened between us.”

“Actually, I was going to ask about what are you going to do about the interview with the families. Now that you two are cousins,” she says, smiling at my expense. 

I would let the Earth swallow me whole right now too. “I did spend a good part of the night thinking about it. I could pull off being Katniss’ cousin. But as soon as the Capitol looks through our birth certificates, they're going to find out that we lied. So I guess my only choice is to hope that they just lash me.”

Madge looks at the distance, pondering. I can see that she's debating something with herself. “What if you two actually became cousins?” 

Madge didn’t elaborate more on what she meant. She only asks me to meet her at the back of the Justice Building after I'm done with my trades, which I try to do as fast as I can. After I'm done at the Hob, I stop at the Everdeen’s to give their share and see how they are holding up. Unsurprisingly, I find Rory there. 

“Hi, Gale good morning,” Prim says, her voice is weak, and you can clearly see she's having problems sleeping. 

“Hi, Prim, where's your mom?” I ask, giving Rory an angry stare. I told him several times that I didn't want him alone with Prim. 

“She took some sleep syrup yesterday and hasn't woken up yet,” she says while cutting vegetables for their lunch. “I don’t think she's going to wake up any time soon.” 

“And what are you doing here?” I ask Rory who also chops vegetables, and fails miserably at not looking guilty.

“He's staying for lunch, you can stay too Gale if you want,” Prim says nonchalantly. 

“Sorry, I can’t, even though I wanted to. I just came by to drop this.” I take out some squirrels, some fruits and roots. It won’t be enough to get them through the week, but I’ll make sure to stop by with more food in a couple of days. 

“Gale, thank you, but we can’t accept it,” she says. I expected something like this would happen. For better or worse, Prim is a lot like Katniss.

“Don’t worry Prim. I'm buying credit with your healing services. Accidents on the woods happen all the time,” I say holding aggressively Rory’s shoulders. 

After Prim finally accepts the food, I say goodbye to her and leave, but Rory follows me outside. 

“I just like to hang out with her, Gale, she’s my friend.”

“What did I told you?”

“That if you find me doing anything with Prim besides being very good friends, you're going to shoot an arrow on my ass,” he says, while I nod. “You know, I think you're more protective of Prim than me.”

“That’s because I like her better,” I joke. I see where he's coming from, there’s nothing normal about these past days, and Prim needs all the support she can have. “Alright, don't do anything stupid, and invite her and Mrs. Everdeen for dinner.”

Before I get to the Justice Building I stop at the bakery, I still had some of the things I usually trade with Mr. Mellark, but they didn't open today. The Mellarks probably didn’t want anyone’s pity stares at them, and I can respect that. The main square is packed with people, huge screens show the live footage of the Farewell Ride, the tributes wave at the Capitol’s crowd from convertibles. Thinking about how many of this kids will be dead in less than five hours makes me sick. 

I don’t want to see Katniss and Peeta. I know myself well enough to know that seeing them would make me do something I would regret. But something odd catches my attention. The camera pans down showing the Capitol people, and some kids from the Capitol stand looking solemnly at the parade. When their car passes, the kids place three fingers on their lips and raise them up. They probably saw us doing and thought it was cool, but their image still keeps bothering me until I get to the Justice Building.

Magde is already there, kneeling down messing with the basement window. “What are you doing?” 

She jumps when she hears my voice, and I try my best not to laugh. “God! You’re so quiet! I can feel my heart beating on my throat!” 

“Feels good isn’t it?” I say, mocking her. 

Madge rolls her eyes at me. “I’m sorry about this morning, Gale.”

“So, what are we doing here?”

“Not here, there,” she points to the window. Madge opens it, and craws inside of it. By the look of it, this isn’t the first time she does that. I follow her, and as soon as I enter it, I realize where we are. 

“This is 12’s records room.”

“Exactly. Most records were lost during the Dark Days, and the districts were supposed to file the remaining ones on a database, but there was never funding to do that, so they just stayed here,” Madge says, gesturing at the rolls of rusty metal cabinets with most names fading. “And I thought, maybe we could do some volunteering work, and file some of this records.”

Madge and I start looking throw the cabinets looking for Katniss’ and mine last names. We also take out several other files to file with it, so it doesn’t look suspicious. 

“So how do you know about this place anyway?” 

“My dad told me about it when we moved to 12, and since no one comes here, I was using this place for a while,” she says, moving away from me suspiciously.

“Wait, is this your make-out spot?” I thought I would be only surprised, but I find out that I’m not only disappointed, I’m jealous. “Couldn’t you just go to the Slag Heap like a normal person?”

Madge seems to be taken back by my unintentional accusatory tone. I didn’t mean to hurt her, she answers on the same angry tone as mine, “I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t get to be a normal person, Gale.”

“I’m sorry.” Going to the Slag Heap is one of the most common things we do on 12, it never occurred me that for Madge, being a regular kid was never an option. “I have to admit, is kind of hard picture you here with some townie. Who did you bring here anyway?”

“Not of your business, that’s who,” she says, a small smile forms on the corners of her lips. “And he was from the Seam, not the town.”

“Was?” I smile too, and I think it makes her blush.

“Just keep looking for the files,” she says, walking away from me.

We fill the dusty service desk with dozens of files. Madge decided to come here every day for the next weeks and enter the files on the database, eventually entering the Everdeens and the Hawthornes. 

“Do you want to be on Katniss’ father side or, mother side?” she asks.

"Father," I answer, nobody would believe I have any relatives from the town.

“Okay, I’m going to file that your grandmother was Katniss grandfather’s sister, making you two second degree cousins. How about that?” 

“Sounds great, but do you really think this could work?” 

“There’s really only one way to find out, Gale,” she says. I don’t know what is the punishment for document forgery, but I’m certain there’s one. I don’t exactly have a lot of options, so I decide to take my chances, only time will tell if I made the right decision.

The cold breeze on my face feels great after I leave the basement. In a couple of weeks, I’ll start to work in the mines. Being trapped underground for ten hours straight without being able to see the Sun will be horrible, but at least I’ll have the woods on the weekends. Maybe Madge would want to go there with me, I could show the meadow, it’s a million times better than this basement. 

“Did you hear that?” Madge asks, calling my attention. The sound is coming from the square, a loud repetitive tick. “It’s the Countdown.”

I hadn’t planned on watching the Bloodbath. I wanted to stay the entire day in the woods. But when Madge starts to race to the square, I can’t control myself and follow her. 

It’s almost starting, the clock at the top of the Cornucopia counts backwards 47…. 46…. 45... 

The camera does an aerial shot over the arena. No trees in sight only buildings. The Cornucopia and the tributes stand on a square not too different from the one we are on, that seems to be the center of the arena. The only source of water seems to be a fountain at the base of a building a block from there. 34…. 33.... 32….

The buildings look similar to the ones on 12, with broad entrances that supposed to be for shops and what I think are apartments on the other floors. But they're falling apart, many without rooftops or windows and the rumble of bricks and branches piles up everywhere. They are also higher, averaging three to four stores each, and much closer together with narrow alleyways between them. 15.... 14… 13…

The camera changes to the Cornucopia. It’s full of bags, boxes and backpacks, things that will make the difference between life and death for Katniss and Peeta. 10...9...8… As the camera enters the Cornucopia you can tell that the most important items are placed deep inside of it. Fresh food, water and weapons. 7...6...5…

I look at it carefully, I can see knives, spears, a sword, but no bows or arrows. Madge holds my hand, and we intertwined our fingers together. 3...2...1.


	11. Seneca Crane

Our hovercraft reaches the Game Center, on District 3, at the break of dawn. I’m still drowsy from a poorly slept night, but Plutarch is generous enough to share his amphet pills with me. I need to stay extra sharp today, the morning before the Overture is packed with last minute changes and tests to ensure the arena is working properly, and I have to meet with the leaders of the other four teams that work on the show.

I barely have time to enter the building on when a young intern from the Arena Team comes by, “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Crane, but Mr. Latier requested your attention urgently.” Great, Beetee asking to meet me in person can only mean one thing, problems. 

The intern drives me in a small electric car through the tunnels under the arena. Beetee and his team’s control room is right under the Cornucopia. They need to be there to coordinate any fixtures necessary, and to assist the Tribute Team. They’re the ones that implant the trackers and deal with the cadavers. 

As we drive, I notice that only half of the lights on the corridors are on, and the place is freezing. I’m cursing myself for not having my jacket with me when I see Beetee Latier standing in front of the arena’s control room. 

"I believe we have a situation, Mr. Crane," Beetee starts, he has dark circles under his eyes and a risp tired voice. We enter the room and on its center. There’s a map of the arena identical to the one on the Game Center, where I work; however, on this map, several red lights blink constantly. "The arena generators showed problems on the last stress test, and that resulted in a shortage of power that’s affecting the cameras on sectors B19, G5, and L15. District 3’s power supply is simply not strong enough to sustain the arena’s functions."

“Are you kidding me, Beetee? Your team had 14 months to build the arena, and you’re giving me this information six hours to the Countdown?”

Beetee looks at me under his glasses, measuring carefully his words. "It was your decision to divide my team due to the demands of the Quarter Quell’s pre-production. And as I recall, Mr. Crane, I did inform you that District 5 would be more suitable for this arena, but you saw it fit that District 5 should host the Quarter Quell, leaving us in this predicament.” 

District 3 was the second best option, the arenas for the Quarter Quells always take more resources than the regular ones. Still, Beetee worked without having any major issues for months, or at least that’s what he was informing me.   

"So what can we do? We can’t have a reality show without the cameras."

"As you saw on your way here, we shut down the majority of our power supply to alleviate the pressure on the system. We do not have any heat, but the communication link between our teams should be working in a satisfactory manner.”

“That’s fine, we’ll send you some coats, what about the cameras?”

Beetee takes off his glasses and takes his time cleaning them on his shirt. Usually, I don’t mind him taking his time to think, but the cold is reaching my bones, and I need to get back to the Game Center, the Farewell Ride will end any minute now. “I suppose we could turn off the internal cameras and relocate the power to the arena,” he finally says, “with your written permission, of course.”   

I let Beetee turn the power off our cameras under his guarantee that only a few members of his team will know about this. This isn’t a huge deal, the last incident with a backstage worker that I can recall happened ages ago, and it was just an intern trying to steal a sponsor's gift out of the prop room. When the security crew questions me about it, and they inevitably will, I’ll just have to explain that I had to an executive decision. I’m sure President Snow would prefer the cameras inside the arena working, instead of the cameras under it. 

Back at the Game Room, the teams finish setting up their stations. The room is an auditorium with dozens of desks facing the map of the arena. It’s big enough to fit the Camera Team, that records and edits all the footage, the Prop Team, responsible for the mutts and sending the tribute’s parachutes and the producers, who make the game worth watching. This place is the reason why I started to work on the Hunger Games. Not even the president gets the view we get here. 

"The crop is getting online now," a member of the Tribute Team says. The Farewell Ride must be over. One by one, the faces and heart rates of the tributes start to appear on the screens. Most of them averaging at 110 beats per minute, which is normal, most kids enter the arena at the verge of a panic attack. The unusual ones are like the female from District 2, whose heart rate barely raises above 70. 

The cameras on Clove’s Launch Room show her eating lunch without a care in the world as if the next days will be a vacation for her. She's completely different from Cato. He barely touched his food and doesn't sit down for a second, limping from one side of the room to the other taking deep breaths to calm himself down. 

“Why is he limping?” I ask in a low voice to Plutarch, who sits by my side. 

"Gallio didn't like the 8 he got on his score. So he spent the good part of the night beating the kid." Plutarch doesn't look at me, he stares at his cup of coffee, lost on his own thoughts. I wish I could say something to him. Gallio is a horrible man, but Cato doesn’t seem to be any different. District 2 breeds nothing but monsters, that’s why they have so many victors. 

On Katniss’ Launch Room, her lunch stays untouched on the table. She and her stylist sit on the couch holding hands. She looks pale, and her whole body trembles. 

"Look, I'm not allowed to bet, but if I could I would bet of you," he says.

"Truly?" she says, her voice not higher than a whisper, her eyes full of tears. 

"Truly." He leans down and kisses her on the forehead. “Good luck, girl on fire.”

"Alright, it's time, start the five-minute call," I order to the Tribute Team. One of them pushes a bottom, and the announcer asks the tributes to stand on the launch platforms. 

The Careers are the first to stand on their platforms. Others need to be pushed in by their stylists. The boy from District 5 cries and hits the glass begging to go home. His producer talks to him on a soft, paternal voice until he calms down. To my surprise, the little girl from 11 enters her platform alone and with a brave look on her face. Her heart rate is as high as any other tributes, but she doesn't show.  

Peeta is the last one to get on the platform, he took every second he had stretching and taking deep breaths. He’s not necessarily calm, he’s focused. His face has the same determined look he had on the day he volunteered. If President Snow didn't want him dead, he would have been the perfect victor.  

The Countdown starts, we do close-ups on the tributes that don’t look in panic. Only the hardcore fans of the show know this, but the Hunger Games doesn’t air live, as most people think. We allow ourselves to have a thirty seconds delay so we can scan the arena for the best shots, and on the Bloodbath, we use every single second that we can. 

"I want an aerial shot, then a supply shot." The footage that’ll be on air on a few seconds shows up the main screen. I take the time to look at the tributes. It doesn't take long for Peeta and Katniss to find each other on the platforms. We purposely placed them on opposite sides of the square to increase the chances of one of them crossing the Bloodbath.

"You removed the bow and quiver from the weapon selection," Plutarch says, giving me an inquiring look.

"High up orders," I say. From the corners of my eyes and can see Lavinia smiling.

Time's up, the clock reaches zero, and the siren announces the beginning of the 74th Hunger Games. 

The tributes scatter all over the place, our tech alliance, the tributes from District 3 and 5 run South of the Cornucopia, meeting again only two blocks from the center of the arena. That’s an excellent strategy, from their building they can observe the Careers and plan their move at the right time.

At the Cornucopia the Bloodbath goes as expected. Glimmer is the first to reach the weapons. She gets the spear and starts to fight the incoming tributes, protecting the supplies until the rest of the Careers gets to her. The male from District 8 attacks her with a club. They wrestle for a second, but she stabs him on the chest, making is heart rate line go flat. The boy’s picture goes to a screen that marks the tributes rank in the game. His name was Lace Weft, he was thirteen-years-old, and he placed last.

Glimmer stands over his body catching back her breath, not noticing when Katniss runs behind her.  She doesn’t stop for the any of the backpacks, grabbing the easiest one on her way, but she does make the mistake of glancing at the weapons, probably looking for the bow that supposed to be there. On her distraction, she doesn’t see Clove running at her.

They tumble together, none of them has any weapons, but Clove is a lot bigger, and is a better fighter. She pins Katniss down, holding the girl by the throat and punches her in the face twice before Peeta pulls her off Katniss and slams her on the ground. Clove's eyes widen, she seems to have problems breathing after the impact on the arena's stone pavement.

"Let's go!" Peeta shouts, and they are off running in no second. Even after the attack, Katniss has no problem keeping up with him. Clove gets back up, looking them disappear between the buildings and for the first time since her reaping, she smiles.

"They got the orange backpack, that's the one with the beef jerky?" Lavinia asks.

"No, that's the blue one," I state. We placed three types of backpacks with a variety of items that go from common, like sleeping bags, to rare, like medicine and fresh food. The orange ones only have basic survival gear in it. Food and water will be a problem for Peeta and Katniss. Especially since they're running on the opposite side of the only apparent water source of the arena. Unless they can find one of the exposed pipes, they're screwed. 

The Bloodbath lasts another forty-five minutes. We lost two full districts, meaning their male and the female tributes, and two half districts, the girl from 9, and the boy from 6. At the total six kids enter the body count. A relatively low number. On my last game as a producer, sixteen tributes died on the first hour. 

The producers from Districts 8 and 10 get up and clean their stations. Now that their tributes are off the game they aren’t allowed to remain here. They wish us the best of luck and leave for the hovercraft that’ll take them back to the Capitol. 

“Let’s sound the cannon, and get the hovercrafts ready, send them as soon as the Careers clear the square.”

They take their time arranging all the remaining bags and weapons on a pile. Clove scavenges the corpses of the tributes she killed and takes out the tokens from their districts. She looks at them as trophies. Cato’s breathing is irregular and shallow, he’s in pain, but either Gallio doesn’t see it, or he doesn’t care. 

"Let's eat and rest. At sundown, we'll hunt," Cato says.

"And who made you the leader?" Marvel challenges him. Cato grabs the sword and cleans the blood from it on his shirt while staring at Marvel. He looks like he aged a decade on the last hour, the scared boy from the Launch Room is gone, right now he’s tired, angry, and violent.

"You got a problem with that?" he says, and Marvel backs away from him.    

"Glad the kid isn't as dumb as he looks," Marvel’s producer says. 

For the next hours, we watch the tributes settle down and explore the arena. The girl from District 7 is the first to find the water source, the girl from 11 hides in the third floor of a roofless building. The tech alliance sits and waits, Foxface pull out a bottom off her jacket and put it on her mouth. That’s a survival tactic to help with thirst that we don’t teach on the training section. She’s clever, maybe enough to make it to the top 5.

The only tributes doing something tv worthy are the volunteers from 12. They ran almost all the way to the edge of the arena and found a relatively safe and isolated place, a four-story building with a single entrance cluttered with wreckage. They make their way through it and set up a trap before going deeper into the building. Rarely ever another tribute falls for these things, but we keep the knot-tying class available because the prepping looks good on camera.

"We should be safe here for a while," Katniss says, an awkward silence falls between them. Peeta is probably dying to talk with her about the video, but he won’t do it in front of the cameras. Instead, he looks at the small bruise formed on the place where Clove punched Katniss, right under her left eye. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. His voice is concerned, but also full of sadness. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she pauses for a second, looks at his lips, then back to his eyes. “Thank you, Peeta.”

He nods and goes upstairs without waiting for her. 

"I'll get them fucking by day three, mark my words" Lavinia says, winning some laughs from the other producers. I’m deeply regretting assigning her to produce 12.

"No, they're not. We're dropping that," I say, getting up to get some coffee. The games this year are the worst. Thank God the lovers' thing is rare. Hopefully, no district will be stupid enough to try to copy it and make this a gimmick. 

“What the hell, Seneca?” Lavinia says in a low tone. “This was your idea.”

That’s true, it was Lavinia’s plan, but the idea was mine. At the time I was just thinking about the ratings, now I can only think about my own daughter. “I changed my mind, Lavinia.” 

“Why?”

“If you had a daughter, you'd understand," I say. 

Lavinia looks at Plutarch and presses her lips. She comes closer and speaks is almost a whisper. “Look, I know Plutarch is your friend, but he’s putting bad ideas in your head. That’s crop, Seneca, not your daughter’s classmates.”

But they could have been. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to convince myself of the opposite. The reality is that if Minerva was born on the wrong side of the Capitol hills that could be her fearing for her life, or having her relationship ruined by a lie. Plutarch was right. Those are children. I was too much of a power hungry coward to admit that. 

“And I’m your boss, Lavinia. You’ll do what I’m telling you to do, or next year you’ll be watching the Quarter Quell in the producers’ room of some stupid-ass dating competition that no one cares about.” 

“Fine,” she says, running her fingers through her red hair, defeated. “Your call, Seneca.” 

Back at the arena, Katniss took out the contents of the backpack. She places in front of Peeta a bottle of iodine, a box of matches, a small coil of wire, a pair of night vision glasses, an empty canteen, rope, one hunting knife, and a sleeping bag. 

"We need to find water and food.  I haven't seen a single water source on the way here," Peeta says. He looks at the window, but they’re too far to see the Cornucopia. “I just hope the only food here isn’t the one with the Careers.”

"I saw some birds, I could shoot then if I had a bow," she says.

"Did you saw one at the Cornucopia?" 

She shakes her head. Peeta clenches his jaw, looking around, thinking. 

"It was all my fault. I was stupid. We could make some clubs with the wood around here," she says, but Peeta is not listening. 

He starts to cut pieces of the rope and tying a few sticks together with. Then he tears another piece of the rope apart making a string, which he ties on the ends of the sticks making an improvised bow. He’s completely immersed in his work that he doesn’t seem to notice Katniss gazing at him.

"It'll probably not going to last long, but here," he says. A small proud smile forms on his lips as he sees Katniss admiring it. “I’m going to make some arrows too.”

Peeta spends the next hours of daylight making the arrows while Katniss practices with them using the backpack as a quiver. It’s clunky, and she would do a lot better with the silver bow from our weapon selection, but this will have to do. They don’t have nearly enough sponsors’ credits to afford it. The Sun is setting when she manages to shoot down a bird after some failed attempts. Peeta makes a fire to cook it, and they sit on the roof eating it and watching the Dead Recap.   

“Six dead, but none of them are Careers,” she says. 

“I don’t think they’re going to turn on each other on the first night again this year,” Peeta says.

“We’re not that lucky.” 

They lay down side by side on the roof and watch the night sky. For nearly a week I watched those two do almost everything together. She washed his hair on the shower, he finished her plates of food, every night they would cuddle up in bed, and he would ask her if she had a song for him, and every night she answered the same thing.  _ Always _ . 

“Did I ever told you about how I found out that I loved you?” Katniss says, and Peeta turns to her without hesitation. Lavinia did some damage, that’s true, but I don’t think it was enough to tear those two apart. 

“Sure, it was that day of the storm,” he says.

“No, that was the day I fell in love with you. I’m talking about the day I found out that I was in love with you.” She gives a small shy laugh, one that Peeta mimics. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

“Yeah, our class was on cleaning duty, and you attacked me on the old music room,” he laughs, and she playfully pushes him. 

“I didn’t attack you! I took you to the music room to show you the new song that I learned!”

“That you didn't knew how to play,” he jokes.

“That piano was out of tune!” Katniss says. Peeta just nods his head, and mouths the word ‘sure’, making her roll her eyes at him. “Anyway, after I innocently tried to play the song and  _ you _ kissed me, I panicked and walked straight home.”

“Being left like that felt great by the way. Thanks for reminding me of that.”

“Well, I never really thought about boys, or kissing until that day so excuse me if I needed some time to process it. But later that day you came to my house with my coat and the books I left behind in the school.”

“It took me hours to find your house.” The memories make Peeta smile, he leans in and holds her hand, the distance between them seems to be closing. 

“That’s when I knew. I’m mean, I knew what I felt about you was different, but I couldn’t put a name on it until I saw you on my porch. That day I found out that I loved you, and I that would probably never stop loving you.”

Peeta’s teary eyes shine under the moonlight as he debates with himself. Katniss gets closer, resting his hand on her hip, which he gently caresses. 

“Mockingjay, I need to ask you something,” he says, but a song interrupts them. 

It’s an old theme song from a children’s cartoon. Minerva used to sing it all the time. Now the Careers are singing it. They’re less than a block away from Peeta and Katniss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so a reviewer mentioned that there are minor mistakes on the writing and that I could use a beta reader to help me out. So… I don’t have any friends I could ask, and I do want to become a better writer, so does anyone wants to volunteer as tribute? (sorry for the pun, I couldn’t help myself)


End file.
